


Thy Instrument

by Kitsune_Heart



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Blanket Permission, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Master/Slave, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune_Heart/pseuds/Kitsune_Heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It shouldn't be expected that they will always win. Or always have won. And if, just once, Holly and Artemis did lose, what else must have been lost? Only the freedom of an entire civilization, under the geis. Subjugation and an impossible redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place sort of post-book 4, following alternate universe events, which will unfold along with the story.
> 
> This story will include controversial and possibly disturbing elements. Most readers will realize what I mean from this chapter alone. I strove to make this chapter as gentle as possible, while still getting the point across. Please proceed with caution if you have any post-traumatic stress or triggers.

Sleeping in was one of the many luxuries Holly missed.

Not that she slept in all that much before the war, but never had she been woken by the loud clunk of a breaker being switched, panel lighting flickering on in quick succession, working its way down the corridor, the hum of electricity all but drowning out the small groans of the cells' inhabitants.

She kept her eyes closed an extra few seconds, silently hoping that she'd been having one long, very convincing dream. Then she finally opened them in response to a nearby metal clanging.

Holly pushed herself up on the hard bed, flexing her fingers to approximate claws, upper lip rising to display her teeth, and rumbled deep in her throat.

The human on the other side of the bars just laughed. He slammed a metal rod—it looked to just be some piping, nothing too specialized, and something he probably brought in on his own initiative—against the cell bars once more, the sharp tones making Holly wince, her elven ears unable to cope with the noise. "None of that, _unseelie_."

Instantly, Holly stopped growling, lips coming together in a simple frown, hands balling to fists.

"Get out of bed."

She hopped down from the top bunk, her cell-mate—a smallish sprite with braided hair down between her wings to her ankles—giving her an annoyed look for the jostling of the rickety frame. Or perhaps for the man's continued presence. No fairy enjoyed drawing human attention. Despite rumors about her past with Fowl, Holly didn't, either, but she never could convince her companions otherwise.

"There's a girl," the guard crooned, but he grumbled when Holly turned her back on him, breaking the valuable eye contact.

"Well, aye, be that way," he muttered, shifting closer to the bars.

Even if it as only a few inches closer, Holly felt her skin crawl. He could reach through those bars so easily. Touch her and...and she wouldn't be able to...even as her body now _screamed_ to shift her weight back and snap her foot between the bars, deep into his groin, it was utterly impossible.

"Just remember, _unseelie_ , it's in your best interest to behave tonight. Even the worst-behaved, _ugliest_ stock here gets a buyer. Just her own... _special_ buyer."

Holly turned to send a suitable return insult at the man, but he was already making his way down the corridor, waking the other reluctant inhabitants. Slowly, the cells came awake as forty fairies sat up in their beds, some stretching or shrinking in on themselves as they returned to consciousness. Many were frozen, and had to be spoken to very precisely to get them to leave their beds and relieve themselves in time for their handlers to come and escort them out.

Holly was in one of the first cells, so she had very little wait. They came for her cell-mate first, however, giving her a precious minute alone to think.

* * *

_Every warning in the ship was screaming in Holly's ears. Some were voices—most recorded by Lieutenant Frond years ago, when the LEP still had time for such frivolities, and the Frond herself to indulge them—ordering her to do things to mitigate the oncoming disaster. Too many voices, and too many orders, many contradicting one another. With that chaos, she couldn't do anything but go manual, pulling up the nose of her ship as it approached the Earth not too far below._

_"Eject!" Trouble was screaming. "Eject, Short! I've got it!"_

_Behind them, through the cockpit doorway, the fairies they were transporting had stopped wailing. Holly hoped it was just the violent motions of the craft which had knocked them out, and not a malfunction in the emergency air masks that had deployed after the shuttle depressurized. Her own mask was painfully suctioned to her mouth, muffling her voice as she screamed back at Trouble. "Not a chance, Commander! I've almost...got us...down!" The ground was now just a minute away. She leaned back, hands wrapped so tight on the controls that her bones ached, the vibrations of the craft rising up her arms, making her very brain buzz._

_"That's an order, Major!" Trouble looked Holly in the eyes, reaching out to grab the steering column, though he had his own set in the co-pilot's chair. "Someone needs to report back. And I'm the CO here." He pushed at her hands, forcing them off the wheel._

_Holly stopped focusing on their rapid fall. Just for a few seconds. Long enough to turn her head and look into Trouble's eyes, their faces so close together that their masks were bumping, breaking the airtight seals. Yet somehow, so long as her eyes were on his, she didn't feel the violent motions of the plane._

_"Go, Holly," Trouble said in a normal volume, which seemed like a whisper in this moment and among the tumult. "For me."_

_Holly blinked, leaning away from the Commander. Her eyes stung, so she closed them. "D'arvit."_

_Reaching down to the side of her seat, she grabbed a lever, thumb flicking up a clear plastic cover and resting on the red button beneath. She took a bracing breath. "Sir! Yes, sir!"_

_She just remembered to clench her jaw before the hydraulics launched her seat free of the aircraft, sending her far above the descending plane. Below her, the LEP craft shot away, followed by four screaming black shapes, their wakes and the fire coming from their engines slamming into her chest, sending blue healing magic all across her body._

_With almost perfect synchronicity, her parachute deployed and the shuttle's left wing exploded in a ball of white-hot flames. The blast knocked the wing off entirely, and craft and wing continued to plummet, but now in opposite directions._

_From the new rent in the side of the plane, strange shapes began to tumble out. Not metal. Far too loose, too changing. Holly's visor zoomed in on the flopping bodies and body parts just a split-second before she closed her eyes. Unable to see, she still felt the final heat wave of the shuttle's impact with the Earth._

* * *

She kept her eyes closed when she heard the cell door open. Even without the tromping of heavy steel-toed boots, she would have felt the advance of the human into what little "home" she'd accepted as hers in the last few weeks.

"Look at me, Fairy."

Holly raised her head and pointed it in the general direction of the of the voice, but did not open her eyes. She smirked a little, though she knew how little she'd be pleased in a moment.

"Fucking—" The speaker's rage was cut off as he stepped forward to stand before the elf, his hand wrapping around her throat. An easy feat for a human. "Look at me!"

Holly's mouth opened, struggling for air. For a scream. But her eyes remained squeezed shut.

From the cell door, another figure sighed. "She won't sell if she's injured, Dolohov."

"Bitch like this," the attacker snarled, putting his other hand to the side of Holly's face, fingers spread apart, "don't deserve _one_ owner."

Holly gagged, fingertips half tingling and half numb, heart racing and ready to explode. Maybe if she could keep her eyes closed long enough, she would pass out and miss tonight, stuck in the human's makeshift fairy hospital.

What felt like an enormous—though only human-sized—thumb pressed to her eyelid, pushing up. "Open your eyes." When she managed to squint the lid back down, the pressure increased, white and blue bursts forming in half of Holly's vision. "Open your eyes. Open your _eyes!_."

A bare slit of light came through.

" _Open your eyes!"_

Holly's eyes shot wide, the human's thumb briefly touching one sensitive orb. Holly jerked her head back, wanting to blink and spread tears over the surface, but finding herself unable to do so.

The hand about her neck relaxed. "There's a girl. Good." The guard—different from the one this morning, but indistinguishable from his fellows in principle—stepped back. "Now. Look at him." He pointed behind himself.

Holly's head snapped to the man at the cell door. He was dressed in the height of fashion, his hair dyed black and red, done into inconceivably numerous spikes, his clothes all white and tight-fitting, giving an easy view of each muscle and other such bulges. "You may blink," he said, showing he knew the fairies rather well, "but keep looking at me until I say you can look away," he said, voice unnecessarily flat. Humans always seemed to think that the _geis_ required a lack of emotion. Not true. Though the will to use the _geis_ often coincided with that condition. "Now, follow me." The man turned his back on Holly and walked down the cell block, long legs taking enormous strides.

Holly jogged after, her legs screaming in pain and joy and the stretching. Even movement on her peripheral vision, which made her heart rate spike in anticipation of a sidelong attack, did not take her eyes off the man's back.

He led her to a bright room lined by mirrors and counters, a dozen adjustable chairs bolted to the floor, in two rows. A few were already filled, including one with her sprite cell mate. Instead of sitting, Holly was instructed to stand before a mirror, lock eyes with her own reflection, and not move.

They began by cutting away the blue scrubs that had been her only clothing for the past few weeks, putting the scraps in a plastic bag marked with a bio-hazard symbol. Her hair was combed and parted several times, and she was pronounced free of vermin, and the same was repeated on her pubic hair. Then she was blasted with a water, rough sponges taken to her skin, rubbing until at least one full layer epidermis was stripped away, leaving her pinker, prickles going all across her new skin. Soothing lotion smelling faintly of lavender was rubbed across her body, between her toes, over breasts, her buttocks parted to get all the way down. She was told to stand and let herself dry, and she complied, limbs held akimbo as if she were in the middle of jumping jack. Her jaw clenched, eyes burning, and only partially from the bit of lotion that had worked its way to the tender membrane at the corner of a lid.

When she was dry, they directed her to a chair situated next to a sink, and told her to sit and close her eyes, and open them again on orders. Once her eyes were closed, she really didn't have to comply with such an order, but the pain in her left eye socket would make her leery of another struggle.

The chair tilted back and her hair was scrubbed and conditioned several times. As she lay back, she felt cold steel next to her ears, and heard the snick snick of scissors and the gentle touch of a brush sweeping the groomed hair away.

What were the humans thinking, with all their hair products? Rank chemicals were slathered on her head and left to sit for half an hour before being rinsed again. She was tilted back up, opening her eyes on orders, and moved to another chair, a new fairy—this one male, though just as naked as Holly—taking her place at the sink.

Her hair was dried as her hands and feet soaked in mineral water. She yelped and writhed away as a human began working on her softened toe nails, cutting too deep, but was immediately stilled upon orders. The rasping of the file on her bared nerves sent electric jolts up Holly's leg, her eyes again watering until the makeup specialist told her to stop. And then all she could do was feel the file.

Holly's red hair—now striped by thin bars of black and gold, done with a simple rinse-out dye—was only grown to her shoulders, and the stylist bemoaned the lack of materials, mooning over the sprite female's long locks. He again used the scissors, but sparingly, only taking off split ends. Holly's nails were finished quickly—a soft pink, false set with tiny gold spirals on her thumbs—leaving her hair and makeup specialists to spend another good hour more at work. Holly's eyes were shaded a soft bronze, lips glossed a gentle red, while her hair was flipped out in a way that made the makeup girl squeal, "She's like a fairy Farah!"

Holly thought everyone was done when they stepped back to examine her, but they took another ten minutes making tiny adjustments. Blush was applied between Holly's breasts, creating false cleavage. Henna was discussed, but decided against. All looked thoroughly disconcerted, as if something about their charge was wrong. Deformed.

Finally, the manicurist snapped her fingers. "Ears!" She looked at her comrades. "I'm thinking silver. Spiral cuffs, down to something dangling. With...amber!"

The staff cheered, and a box was brought out and sorted through. The sets were designed for fairies, the intricate whorls of cuffs fitting along the long outside curve of her ears, leaving the ultra-sensitive tips free. A piercing gun was brought out, the sound of it's firing, so close to her eardrum, more painful than the tearing of her flesh. The dangling silver and amber hearts were slid into place and wiped clean of blood until the wound coagulated on its own.

Then, someone new was summoned. He was tall and very thin, with hair that had once been bright blonde, made all the lighter by gray. His long, hooked nose easily held a small pair of glasses, though the rest of his body seemed to have a hard time supporting a long white coat and black trousers, creating sags in all the wrong places.

The man held a chart in one hand, which he consulted briefly before looking into Holly's eyes. "You will sleep for the next ten minutes," was all he said.

And Holly knew no more.

* * *

When Holly awoke, she was in a new cell. This was smaller than her old quarters, and had no bed. She'd been placed in a bowl-shaped chair, her head hanging off the back, preserving her hair, though not her neck muscles. The tough major put no effort into hiding her groans as she sat up, squeezing her shoulders and the top of her spine with a hand made clumsy by its recent manicure.

Moving utterly silently, a new human appeared before the bars of her cell, speaking before Holly had a chance to close her eyes. "Get dressed. Do not damage your hair or makeup. Stand on the X on the floor and look out of the door until you are summoned." He didn't even wait to see if she complied, instead moving on to the next cell, giving the same orders a few minutes later to another, unseen fairy, and moving on again.

Holly considered putting on the clothes in the wrong order—the _geis_ allowed small rebellions, after all—but she could still feel that thick hand on her neck. Cowed and hating herself for it, she slipped on a matching set of ludicrously lacy pink underthings. The bra straps crossed each other, pushing her breasts high. She felt like she would be asked to balance a beer on them. For the first time in her life, she thought she might be able to do so.

The rest of the clothes were similarly terrible. A white skirt with deliberate rips, making it look closer to a loincloth than a real item of clothing, though a fashionista like Frond might have been able to claim it as legal attire. The shirt was the same bleached color, though "shirt" may not have been an accurate description. It was one long length of fabric, about a hand's length in width. The ends were joined to make a loop, and then further stitches enforced a figure-8 shape. It took Holly some time to work it out, and longer to adjust her breasts into the slings made by the X of fabric. She understood the strange bra construction, now, though both top and bottom couldn't be arranged in any way that avoided revealing hints of pink. Probably the point.

As the shirt finally settled and she ran her hands along her body to investigate, the elf finally felt something cold and thin on her neck.

Holly grabbed at it, heart hammering. She tugged, and felt pressure on the back of her neck. She tugged harder and harder, but it wouldn't move. Wouldn't let her go.

Holly looked about the cell frantically. She needed something reflective. Anything. Finally, she noticed the high-heeled shoes she had been given, and their definite silver shine. The sole was curved and would bow the reflection, but it was good enough. She grabbed one and looked.

Tight about her neck was a red choker. Or, perhaps more accurately, a collar The underside was lined in satin, the weight so slight that she hadn't noticed it until now, though her increased breathing now made her aware of its every small shift at the hollow of her throat. A true masterwork of design.

And that thought made Holly laugh hysterically, dropping the reflective shoe to clatter on the concrete floor. Her fingers wrapping around the width of the collar, tugging it until her neck ached. She angled her eyes down until they also hurt, and just caught the glint of a green light at her throat, blinking, unconcerned with her struggles.

Holly only had a few more seconds to pull before her orders came back to her, and she let the collar go, biting the inside of her cheek. She slipped into the shoes, wobbling to the X made of duct tape. Free of the compulsion to dress and position herself, she went back to inspecting the collar. There was enough space to get three fingers under the edge, and she took advantage of that, twirling it about, searching for seams or buttons or anything she could take advantage of. Eventually, one of the many guards came by, noticing her work, and barked out an order to let it go and stand still.

Holly did so, though her muscles seemed to crawl under her skin. About her neck and shoulders, the tension increased until she began to cramp. She was almost crying with pain when a door at the end of the hall opened and the spike-haired man from hours ago entered. He went to one of the other cells, letting his accompanying guard open the door for him, looking inside.

"Follow me. Do not make a sound until you are told to do so."

When he began to walk away, a sprite female followed, dressed in the same short skirt and sarong Holly sported. Her wings were clamped to her back, and she flinched when the door opened again, but walked through without breaking stride.

Holly heard voices on the other side. Dozens of murmurs. The occasional shout. Even a few howls, entirely animalistic, sending shocks across Holly's hands as she tried to make fists to protect herself. Above all was one voice, louder than the rest, though the cacophony garbled the words. After a few minutes, there came a relative silence, full of anticipation, which seeped into every cage. The fairies who hadn't been given such strict orders as the major shifted and whispered.

Then the voice came again, louder, words unmistakeable.

"Let us start the bidding!"


	2. Chapter 2

Opal Koboi had won.

Rooting about in her shuttle, searching for the bombs, Mulch had made a mistake. Something small, Holly didn't know what, but something. A little sound or just bad timing, and he was seen before he could make his escape with the explosives. There had been...a lot of screaming over the intercom before Butler shut it off. The man grabbed his two companions when the bay door of Koboi's shuttle opened, forcing their faces against his side to hide their eyes. Even though Holly was supposed to be a hardened officer of the law, she let him.

The soundproofing of their own hijacked shuttle half-drowned out the dwarf's last screams as he plummeted to the molten center of the Earth.

Then, not long after, there came an Earth-shattering noise. Quite literally Earth-shattering. The charges were set off. A hole was torn in one of the main chutes to Haven.

There was no outstripping a molten ball of iron. Holly had to go the other way, speeding them to the surface, breaking every fairy law flying above-ground to the nearest fort. Even if they could have got a message through the Haven lockdown, it was far too late to save the city.

The Zito probe wasn't meant to take video, but the humans eventually saw footage of Haven in flames, coming from the fairy's own systems. People began dying even before the iron broke through the wall, cooked by the heat. In fact, very few fairies actually died from direct contact. The superheated air simply boiled the water in their cells. Not an entirely swift or painless death, but better than what was put upon the final wave leaving Haven. It was months before anything could be sent back to the ruined city, but there was nothing to be salvaged there. The only things not completely destroyed were the People's radioactive power sources, protected by redundancies that even prepped them for a bath in molten metal.

The fairies that had survived were mostly forced to the surface. Perhaps only 2,000 fairies made it, but even 2,000 fairies can not hide topside. They were reeling. Their supplies were practically nonexistent. Atlantis was not prepared to take in 2,000 extra citizens overnight. There was only one option.

A good deal of the Council had survived, and they took one of the last undamaged ships to Leinster House and stood before the human government that now controlled the old fairy homeland. They showed video of the disaster. They asked for help.

But, of course, nothing can be done in politics without debate. Not even extending aid to starving people. The humans and fairies argued. It got heated. There was screaming. No one was quite sure who gave the order—"Let me finish!"—but an order was given. And the fairies complied. At once. And the oldest of the humans—the ones whose mothers had still bothered to pass on the old tales—understood.

As did the fairies. They scrambled, filling all of their few vehicles to near-crushing capacity, and still having to leave over half their number behind. Among those were many of the injured, unable to get onto a shuttle, losing their place as their companions panicked and fought for enough room to breath. They had no magic left to shield. Holly gave all of her fort's camfoil to the civilians and told them to run.

A few of those left behind disappeared into smaller tunnels and forests.

Most, though, were hit with tranquilizers or surrounded by vehicles or tackled by dogs, which had been trained to attack fairies with remarkable swiftness. A few must have been hit with bullets, because the news broadcast she saw a few days later, while peeking through a window in the suburban outskirts of Dublin, had shown pictures of inadequately filled body bags. There was a lot of blame laid on the military for the deaths. At first, for the killing of unarmed creatures.

And then, for the waste.

A species that could create fire without any fuel source? A boon to the energy crisis. Another that could control the growth of plants? Famine eradicated. Healers of the highest caliber? Death by illness was almost immediately a thing of the past. Not to mention the technology, which humans might not have understood, but for ordering the survivors to explain every little and yet major revelation. With all the new technology to be produced, industry boomed, nearly every economy recovering completely from their recessions, and most rising to new heights.

Certainly, there were conflicts. Ireland had enjoyed the emergence of the largest majority of fairies, and so they benefited most. What had once been a first world nation with relatively minor power became perhaps the most important land of them all. They were not greedy or unwise about their position, however. One by one, deals were made with their allies. Fairies were traded away. Or, sometimes more valuable in the countries that had not mobilized their armed forces fast enough after the discovery of the _geis_ , they sold their trained dogs, attuned to fairy scent, to track down the _unseelie_ of other nations.

National boundaries were redefined or erased as the few countries that failed to secure a fairy decided that being included in another's lands would be preferable to struggling through without the improvements in quality of life that the People provided.

And if not every fairy belonged to a government? If some fell into private hands? If the truly rich could have their perfect servant...then wasn't that how the free market worked? So long as the world prospered, then what was wrong with the few dozen that disappeared from the public eye? After all, there was another good ten-thousand fairies waiting below the ocean, and the technology of the fairies would get humans down there eventually.

All of humanity agreed: the world was a much better place in the seven years since the fairies were discovered.

* * *

It was a long night. Perhaps it could have all been accomplished in a half-hour—there were so few of them—but that would be such an inadequate ending. An anticlimax to the employee's weeks rehabilitating the magic-deprived creatures. And to the attendee's months of anticipation. After all, only a few of them could leave with a servant. At the least, the rest could enjoy an up-close look at the foreign creatures.

Holly waited three hours. Then they came for her. Her orders were the same as the first fairy's, and she followed her keeper silently through the door.

And onto a stage.

She hadn't realized where she had been held for the last few days. She'd heard of it, however. Artemis Fowl was under constant surveillance after his interference with the People, and it had featured often enough in the feeds: the Gaity Theatre, where Dublin's opera was held, among other high-class events. Including, it seemed, slave auctions.

It was flamboyant. Almost garish. Burgundy chairs and walls set with gold rails and balconies similarly intricately decorated. High above, a chandelier was centered in a rare section of green paint, again ornamented with gold leaf. Every seat was full, and every eye was upon her as she walked to the center of the stage, the click of her high heels echoing off the cold wood flooring until she was ordered to stop. It was oddly silent. A few murmurs from the crowd, some camera flashes, but that was all.

When a voice spoke up, it seemed to come from everywhere, and it took Holly a moment to realize that someone was walking towards her from the opposite side of the stage, holding a microphone. She had to squint as a spotlight was focused upon the man, harsh to her nocturnal fairy sight.

"Well, here's something different! Apologies, bidders, but she came with the short hair. Though I'm _sure_ that will grow out. Tell me, little elf: what is your name?"

"Holly Short," she said, setting her mind into overdrive. She had to be careful. If a human asked her the right question, her place in the LEP would be betrayed. That much she'd somehow managed to hide thus far. Apparently, the humans had the same issues imagining a woman in the military as fairies did, and, so far, no one had questioned why a female fairy would be found alive and completely unharmed not far from a crash with so few other survivors, even when all the others were far from unscathed.

"Holly," the man said back, his eyes seeming to shine as Holly finally adjusted to the spotlight. He looked better suited to hosting a daytime television show than a slave auction. Somewhat grandfatherly. His face showed obvious signs of plastic surgery, which time had reconquered. He might have retained his hair, or the brown covering his head was an incredibly sophisticated toupee. "And how old are you, Holly?"

"Eighty-nine."

"One of the youngest this evening." The host was feigning surprise. Holly had to wonder if his exclamation was genuine. She'd heard rumors of fairies far younger than she put upon the proverbial block.

"So, elf, what sort of skills do you have?"

"C-crunchball," Holly struggled to get the word out before an entire other list of words. Like "marksmanship" and "piloting." She had to give answers, but she didn't have to give the most suitable answers, if she was careful. "Drawing. Gymnastics."

The third example set up the murmuring of the crowd, and the host jumped on their interest. "You took gymnastics lessons?"

"Yes," Holly said, gritting her teeth against further information. Like how the majority of those lessons came during LEP training, run by Wing Commander Vinyáya, and not the few formal classes she'd taken as a child.

"Excellent! Show us!" The man raised a hand, snapping his fingers. After a short pause, whoever was in the tech booth caught on, and music began to blare from the speakers. Holly didn't recognize it, as it was some human tune, but that hardly mattered. She had an order.

Weeks in a cell made her movements clumsy. She wobbled as her legs scissored, muscles burning and loosening until she was able to do a full split, the wood floor cool against the crux of her legs. When the crowd made sounds of approval, she shut her eyes, cursing herself for giving this as an answer to his question, but she moved on. Curving her body, she changed her center of gravity until she could swing her legs forward, her hands between them and flat on the floor, holding her up.

She opened her eyes and looked forward. At the host, who was saying something to the crowd, which resulted in cheers.

Anger. Humiliation. Despair. All of it too intense, and this man was telling the crowd to _cheer_ for her! To _encourage_ her! Well, she might as well give them a proper show of her abilities. She was LEPRecon! These gymnastics routines were nothing more than tricks. Stretches. Holly wanted to show them _talent._

Hooking her toes in the heel strap of her shoes, she kicked them off, feeling the _geis_ protest a bit, but her order to perform superseded the one to get clothed. Gymnasts never wore shoes, after all.

She spread her legs again, rolling her shoulders forward, tilting and tilting until her legs were behind her body, arms shaking under the weight. Then she arched her back and her legs came up, toes pointing at the ceiling. She continued the circle, legs coming over her head, body impossibly bent, and, with a little push of her arms, she sprang into the air, landing on the tips of her toes, but only keeping contact with the Earth for a split-second.

Then she was running. Sprinting forward, each muscle rippling, each joint bending beyond its normal rotation. One foot hit the stage with extra strength and she was going end over end, hands slamming the wood, wrists nearly unable to take the impact, a shock of pain going straight down her spine just as her hands were off the ground again, and then her feet hitting, hands, feet, hands, until she was a mere blur and she stopped watching the world around her, lest she become sick. She just continued the movements in her mind, the stage's dimensions pre-mapped, and she came to the final hand-spring, savoring the planned end to the routine, her feet to impact in the old man's chest, and gods, she hoped there was enough force in her small body to snap his spine.

Then her arms pushed her. Too hard. And she tucked her body into a somersault, something soft barely tickling her toes, and she was down again, landing in a crouch that jarred her bones and made her squeak in pain. She pushed it away, spinning so she could look at the announcer.

His back was still to her, and he appeared to be looking down. Holly checked his line of sight and saw a confusing lump of brown a few feet away. It took her some moments to realize what it was, and then she allowed herself a smirk.

On entering any dwelling, fairies were given many orders. The first of which was to harm no human. Well, after all this, no doubt fairy orders would be modified to include allowing no harm to hairpieces.

After a few more seconds, the announcer turned to look at Holly. His eyes sparked as he smiled at her, but it was gone a second later, when he turned back to the audience, raising his hands and booming into the microphone clipped to his suit collar. "Remarkable! And just imagine what such talents can mean for _you!_ "

The crowd broke into laughter, and Holly could see the front row attendees almost licking their lips. One of the men—for there were women there in the main bidder's circle—was even determinedly making eye contact with Holly, and she was certain he could give her orders to come to him for inspection. Before he could do so, however, she looked away, putting her eyes upon the announcer. He wasn't a safe option, but he, at least, would not give orders for his own gratification. He had a job, after all.

And he seemed eager to get on with it. Seeing that he had eye contact once more, he gestured at the front of the stage, where a thick pane of glass extended from the wood, going about ten feet into the human's seating area, the main bidders ranged around it. "Let's have everyone get a good look at you. Holly. Go to the end of that and do some slow turns."

Her feet moved of their own accord, but Holly quickly modified her steps to shorter strides, keeping her legs as close as possible. She would get there eventually, but it would give her a little more time. Time for what, she was uncertain. No fairy could conduct a rescue mission in a human building. Even if they did take a page from her old book and tear the entire thing down, it was more than likely that any fairy inside would be killed by the collapse of the opera house.

She flinched upon realizing that the idea did not scare her.

She was at the end, now. The glass was warm from the spotlights, and her exertions had brought up a fine layer of sweat, making her footing slippery. Still, she had to turn. Slow. And try as she might to look up, her gaze would fall to the humans in the nearby seats. The only real buyers. The tickets for those seats must cost a good ten times those of the next row back. Who here had already made a purchase and were now just waiting for the end of the night and the claiming of their merchandise? Who wanted a second acquisition? Who would she be forced to submit to as her master?

The man that she'd feared was easy to pick out. A purple suit with a collar that made her nose twitch. Animal fur. She almost laughed when she noticed the woman two seats down giving him a distasteful look. Oh, yes. Wearing fur. How barbaric.

"Now...ladies and gentlemen...you see before you quite a choice member of the elven species. Precisely 100 centimeters tall. Well-fed, well-groomed, and...well-behaved."

The crowd laughed at the last. Holly glared at them. At least she hadn't been ordered not to do that. Though perhaps her spirit would up her price. "Breaking" was the term humans used for horses, and it was never used negatively.

"A wonderful addition to any household, to be sure, but...there is... _one_ more fact about this lovely selection. Something our good Doctor Covington confirmed just before the auctions began. The reason why we saved this young lady for last. Can anyone...hazard a guess as to what that may be?"

At first, silence. Then, slowly, murmurs between the attendees.

Holly was now at a forty-five degree angle to the stage and could see the announcer once more. He had apparently opted out of reclaiming his toupee, as it was still several feet behind him and his head shone in the lights. With a grand sweep of his arm, he brought everyone's attention to a white screen that was descending from a slot in the ceiling at the back of the stage. "Cue the footage!" He said it with a deep, booming voice, as if he were ordering his troops to their last glorious battle.

There was another half-second delay, then the screen lit up and, a breath later, it was overlaid with a moving image. The audio feed washed over the crowd. The opera house's sound system was excellent.

"Post-adolescent female elf. Likely aged between seventy and ninety years. Good physical condition. Plenty of muscle. Possibly a laborer, based on hand calluses."

Holly wasn't really hearing all the description. She was barely turning now, stretching her obedience to the limit in order to just tilt her head back and watch. Her heart hammered. She wanted to throw up, but that was one of the many orders she'd been given on her arrival here. Fairies had tried to starve themselves to death in the early weeks of their enslavement.

"X-rays have shown no skeletal defects, though there is the evidence of a few broken bones. Bone density within normal range. No visible bruises or wounds. Blood-work shows her to be free of disease."

The video jerked as a mounted camera was moved, down her unconscious body, and then...

Holly rarely cried, and she did not do so now, but seeing...seeing herself...laying on a cold, bright steel table, eyes closed...breath even...completely exposed...she wanted to scream.

The crowd was getting louder. Dismissal, approval, or outrage, depending on tastes and morals. The elf...so small...so slight...barely any breasts...some of the men in the front row, just coming into view as Holly continued her turn, were giving those attributes a bit of a closer look, leering, trying to tell her something with their eyes.

The screen was almost out of view, now. Human hands came into view, snapping on purple plastic gloves. Doubly gigantic when compared to her body, to their placement on her knees.

"Neither currently pregnant nor showing signs of estrus having passed. Perhaps within the year, though."

The doctor pushed Holly's knees apart.

She didn't want to see anymore. In a quick jump, she faced the crowd. She'd expected her cheeks to burn with rage or shame, but she was just a hollow space. An emptiness that could take in the faces of the bidders and their open mouths and let the revulsion pass through. Even though one man licked his lips. Even though a woman gently ran a finger along her neck. Even though a second man slid his hand under the coat folded on his lap, never blinking, staring straight up.

"Well... _well!"_ The voice continued from the screen at her back, now breathy, tinged with not just surprise, but a certain...fascination. "It appears...that the specimen retains a hymen. I had almost thought that the reports from other examiners were false, and fairies had no such membrane. Fascinating. It is...flexible. I...dare not press too hard, lest I damage her."

The words made a dull pain blossom between Holly's legs. Psychosomatic? Or finally noticing the effects of the man's instruments...or fingers?

She heard a snapping. The gloves coming off?

"Well, perhaps her figure worked to her advantage. None of the guards seem to have ruined her. At least in this manner. Let's see...anus appears normal...no bruising at the mouth...and, as I said, clean of disease. It is entirely likely that this fairy is...a virgin. _Fascinating."_

The world seemed to get darker. It took Holly a moment to realize that the video had ended, the light of the projection off before the stage lights reasserted themselves. She was just turning from the crowd when she heard light footsteps and the host was at her side. Grabbing Holly's chin—and not entirely gently—he made her look up. His eyes were wide, as if this would somehow increase the power of the _geis._

"Stop spinning," he commanded. Then he smiled. Almost...kindly. "Tell me, elf...are you a virgin?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"So everyone...can hear," he chided.

Holly bit her cheek. Then the _geis_ took over and she repeated, "Yes," loud enough that his microphone caught the word and blasted it over the speakers, echoing through the theater.

"Have you ever kissed anyone...on the _lips_ before?" he asked, leaning down, as if his own mouth would claim that honor.

"Yes."

"Ah." He pouted. "Not _quite_ so innocent." The crowd laughed and he shrugged. "How about oral sex, then? Have you given or received oral sex before?"

She wanted to close her eyes. Stop the questions. Instead, she growled, "No."

"Have you touched a penis before?"

"...no."

"What about another woman? Have you had any sexual interaction with women?"

"No."

"Are you straight, then?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "Well...not that it _matters_ , really."

The men in the buyer's circle roared far more than the women, but the women didn't seem to disapprove of the statement.

"Well...you have heard it from the elf herself, ladies and gentlemen." The host let Holly's chin go and turned to his guests. "A virgin. _True_ virgin." He paused, chest swelling, as if the woman's intact nature was his own doing; something he should be proud of.

"So...where shall we start the bidding?"

They started it high.

Holly didn't know the conversion rates, but she knew that the many millions were not within the normal range of bids. Not with the non-bidding audience gasping at every rapidly-thrown number. Not with the auctioneers snapping at the general audience to not use their numbered cards as fans, lest they be put on the bidder list.

Some of the guests only joined in for the thrill. Soon, it was down to a half-dozen. Then four. Then just the man in purple and the woman who had so despised his furs. They went in smooth upward increments, ignoring the host, striving for the other's breaking point. They looked more like little children arguing "did not" "did too" than adults putting down more money than most people would even hope to make in a lifetime. The man was growing red in the face, sweat dripping into fat-creases at the back of his neck.

"One hundred million!"

"One ten"

"One twenty-five!"

"One fifty."

"Damnit, you bitch, two hundred!"

She laughed and did make use of her number as a fan, almost coquettish. "Two twenty-five."

The man paused. Gritted his teeth.

Then he looked at Holly. Let his eyes rove up and down her frame. The host was just about to break in himself when the bidder growled out "Two fifty."

The woman rolled her eyes and opened her mouth. "Two se—"

"Half a billion," a cool voice broke in. If not for the pause after the last bid, it might have been inaudible.

The crowd broke into shouting, and the host left Holly's side, stepping to the edge of the runway, holding his hand to his brow to look into the crowd, for the call had not come from among the main bidders.

And Holly looked, too. Her throat dry. Her legs weakening. For the voice was too deep for pure memory to identify, but she knew the lilt of a certain accent, so pleasant to the ears of a fairy, along with the sharpness of high education and birth.

"Will the last bidder please stand and identify himself?"

He was halfway back. Almost blending into the crowd, pale skin and raven hair so close to the bi-chromatic suits of the men. His posture was perfect. His chin rose just enough so it seemed he looked down on them all, including the host on his platform. His gaze was terrifying, but his face...all but models would swoon over such features. And the models would just throw tantrums.

Even when he spoke, and even so far away, you could tell he frowned at not being recognized. Surely, by now, with all he'd done, people should know who he was.

"Artemis Fowl...the Second," the bidder said.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite not having a microphone and speaking in what must have been his normal voice, his words carried through the auditorium.

The host straightened up at the name. "Yes, Mister Fowl. And you wish to bid—"

"Half a billion," the boy... _man_ repeated. "To start," he said with a little dismissive and utterly cultured flick of his fingers.

"To _start?_ " The man in purple bellowed, standing and turning to face his new opponent. " _Boy_ , you do not know how much that really is! Shut up and _sit down!_ "

It might have been the spotlight that finally found the boy, but Holly rather thought the yellow gleam in his eyes came from within, and not without. "Perhaps you have not done _your_ research, Mr. Kronski. I...am Artemis Fowl. You _do_ know the name of 'Fowl Energy,' correct? Or at least 'Fowl Enterprises?' Surely, _something?_ I saw you checking your phone before the auction; my communications company released it six months ago." His upper lip rose. "Out of date by now, of course, but I'm sure if you remove the battery you will see our logo."

Kronski's eyes widened, but he did not check. His memory was adequately jogged. His rage, however, remained. "Fine. So you've got cash. Then why aren't you up here with the rest of the bidders?"

Artemis laughed. _Laughed_. Not for long, and it descended into a deep chuckle as he ran a hand over his artfully tousled hair. "Because, unlike the rest of you, I attend this as a networking event. And I do not make it a policy to spend millions on another man's dirty cum-rag."

Several audience members gasped at the vulgarity. Holly took a step back, as if he'd stuck her in the face. She might have struggled further away, fighting her orders, if he...if _Artemis_ hadn't turned his eyes to her, freezing every muscle as effectively as if he'd told her to stop moving.

"But the elf herself confirms her...value," he went on in a low purr. " _Mint_ condition, if you will. So...call me...intrigued."

"You will guarantee your bid, then?" The host asked. He panted the words. Almost...lustful.

"Yes. Your staff has, no doubt, already done the proper checks on my accounts." He looked at his rival bidders. "Half a billion. And far more, if I must."

The woman glared back. Then she turned and looked up at Holly, her eyes shining. She sighed and shook her head.

Holly hated her. Hated that she seemed to be _apologizing._

"Well, Mr. Kronski?" Artemis chirruped. "I believe you have a bit more to bid, if you wish to see how far I'll go." He tilted smirked. "It could prove quite amusing."

"Well...well...Mistah _Fowl_ ," Kronski growled. Then he was shaking his head, chuckling. "I'm sure my first acquisition tonight will provide...sufficient amusement." With no further words, he sat forward and waved at the host.

The old man looked almost...crestfallen. He called to the crowd. "Half a billion, going once. Going twice..." He looked about, as if in desperation, despite the unprecedented figure. Then sighing, thrust a finger at the Irishman. "SOLD! Lot six, one female elf, to Mr. Artemis Fowl, for half a billion! What a way to end an evening, ladies and gentlemen! Please, join me in the lounge for refreshments and information about the next auction, to be held in three months' time. Buyers, you may collect your property backstage."

Artemis nodded to the host, and his smile was so completely...genuine.

Then he turned to Holly.

She stared back, some small...warmth struggling in her chest.

Artemis placed an index finger to his lips.

Holly let herself show him a small, small, hopeful smile.

But then Artemis began to trace his lips, which curved up. Trace so very slowly, as if testing their sensitivity.

She couldn't hear it from this far away, but Holly saw the slow shake of his shoulders as he let out his mirth. The smile widened, mouth opening to show sharp canines, and a tongue that played with a gleaming tip, preparing it for the night.

* * *

Ten minutes later, a guard came to Holly's cell, where she had been left after the stage lights went down. She could feel the rage rolling off him.

"Should have known," he growled. "Little hag like you? Should have known no one ever bothered giving it to you right." He considered her, hand squeezing the black cord he held in his left hand. "Wish the doc didn't go run his mouth. But now there's no way to fix you without the buyer suing." He opened the door and approached her, unwinding the cord. "Guess he'll take care of that tonight, though. Once you get home." He laughed. "Or maybe he'll just do you in the car, _unseelie._ "

 _Don't make him angry,_ Holly told herself. _Just...wait for Artemis. Artemis has a plan. He always has a plan._

Though she rarely ever liked those plans, of course.

The guard didn't even give her an order, seeing how still she was. He seemed even more angry about this, but he just pressed one end of the cord to the front of her collar, which gave off a pneumatic hiss. Looping the other end around his wrist, he tugged, and Holly staggered forward. "Come."

She followed. Down the dark hall and through a door into a lounge area that was blindingly bright and nearly as opulent as the theater proper. Seated on a dozen red velvet couches, men and women drank and smoked, a few with fairies standing just to the side of their knees, stray hands resting on small backs.

Holly looked to every small face, struggling to recognize someone, but they all looked back blankly. Perhaps the makeover had been for the best. If she was identified as LEP, there were bound to be questions. Questions that could reveal her relationship to...

To her owner.

Artemis stood at a chest-high wood desk, tapping his finger on the top, looking at his watch. His elegant features lent themselves to irritation just as well as his earlier amusement.

The guard came to his side and tugged Holly's lead until she was forced to her tiptoes, neck stretched. "Sir?"

"Ah." Artemis looked down and nodded, reaching for the lead. "I trust you've not reduced the value of my property? I will not hesitate to—"

The guard pulled his hand back, out of Artemis's reach.

The genius glared at the guard and then at the little half-bald Asian man behind the desk. "I have _paid_ for her already."

Holly felt faintly light-headed, but simply tried to remain still. She was sure, if she moved, the guard would just stretch her tighter.

"Yes, sir," the clerk agreed. "It's the matter of her clothing. Corporate attire. You will need to give her a different set. Or you may purchase those." He smiled. "They ate fifty-thousand."

"Fifty _thousand_ ," Artemis barked. "I have already paid you a half billion for this elf!"

"It is merely company policy, sir.

"I did not come here with _clothes_ ," Artemis snapped.

"Well, then it will be fifty thousand." The clerk paused and leaned forward so he could cast his eyes along Holly's half-exposed body. "Or she could leave...without them."

Artemis paused. Turning, he looked down at his elf, studying her every inch of bare flesh. "Tempting," he murmured, gaze focusing quite a bit below her face.

Now Holly did try to step back, and her earlier conclusions were instantly proved correct. She felt a burning on her neck as the collar completely cut off her air. She would keep moving away, though. Until she was ordered otherwise, she passed out, or Artemis removed his gaze.

Which he did without much more pause. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket and took out a card. "I may as well make the effort to enjoy her as a virgin before I parade her about as a whore."

She almost shouted at his words, but was cut off as he snatched the lead from the guard and pulled Holly tight to his thigh. Her airway was eased again, breath physically possible, though in no way occurring. _Whore._

The receipt was there just as Holly got a few inches between them. Artemis also received a sheaf of papers and a small device that looked like a key-chain garage door opener, the black plastic contrasting with the red button in the center.

"Her long-distance collar activator," the clerk explained as Artemis pinched the device. "You will notice another button on her lead. Press either of these or say _this_ word," and here he pointed at the top of the page, where "gleam" was written and double-underlined, "and the sedative in her collar will be injected and the military contacted. Be wary when taking her out of a building. Fairy obedience is reset _every_ time they leave a building, so you must give orders upon re-entering." He prodded the papers again. "These are the latest version. You will be sent several types of alerts—text message, e-mail, phone call—to notify you of updated procedures. Memorize as much as you can, but the best option, should you forget, is to order your fairy to sleep until you touch some body part. _Always_ remember to invite her into a building. Forget enough times and she will lose her magic and you will have to surrender her to your government. _Without_ compensation."

"Yes, yes," Artemis finally snapped, thrusting the papers into his suit pocket. "Are we done? I wish to return to my manor."

The clerk smirked down at Holly. "I'm sure you do. You may go, Mr. Fowl. We hope you will do business with us again."

Artemis harrumphed and stepped off without warning, dragging Holly behind him for a few seconds before she was forced into an awkward speed-walk to keep up with his long legs. He'd grown so tall. And...not _handsome._ His face was too smooth to be described in a purely masculine sense, even if there was no doubt he was a male. He'd grown...perfect. No plastic surgery. She highly doubted any cosmetics, though she in no way doubted regular skin treatments and haircuts that cost more than an average family car. The best that money could provide to make him the perfect man.

They were exiting the lounge when Artemis growled at her. "Don't say a _word_ , _elf._ "

She didn't respond. Couldn't. Not even a nod to show the order had registered. And she hated the order when they were in the conjoined garage—her _geis_ still in place, under the roof—and a man drove up in a midnight-black Benz, making Holly gasp, because it wasn't Butler. Butler _always_ drove!

She felt the _geis_ strip away as they left the underground garage. She sat in the passenger seat, feeling so...ludicrously tiny. And even more so as they left the city and went onto quiet, late-night country roads. She wanted to speak, but somehow couldn't build up the strength for the shortest, most important word: "Why?"

* * *

Absolutely nothing was said during the drive. Not by Holly or Artemis or this unfamiliar chauffeur. Once they were out of the city, there was barely enough light in the back seat for a human to see, though Holly fared much better. This didn't mean she took advantage of the situation. Only once did she look at Artemis's face, and she found it flat, looking straight ahead, betraying nothing even as his hand played idly with the loop at the end of her leash, his fingernails rasping on the weave.

Holly copied him and looked forward, unwavering until they took a left turn onto a private driveway and a familiar building emerged in the distance.

Fowl Manor had stood for hundreds of years, imposing on the surrounding countryside from its hilltop position. From the start of the drive, only the tallest of the original castle towers was visible over the trees. Soon, though, the foliage began to pass behind and more of the edifice was revealed, until they took one last, gentle curve and came through a half-bloomed arbor into full view of the massive building.

Holly had only seen the Manor up close twice, but she'd long ago memorized its floor plan, studying digital documents after her kidnapping, becoming the world's foremost expert on the Fowls. She found very little had changed. The center of the Manor was old, thick stones, even sporting a few half-eroded gargoyles. Coming off either side were wooden wings, which formed the modernized portions of the structure. The old castle portion barely had electricity, but the rest was fully wired, air conditioned, heated, and under tighter surveillance than most embassies and parliaments. Artemis's bedroom, in particular, had a fiber-optic network of which even Foaly had approved.

Holly clenched her teeth. _Foaly..._ Living through the Spelltropy epidemic, Holly had thought she'd grown used to loss. Half her graduating class had succumbed, in fact. Now, though, she was far more intimately acquainted with the kind of disaster that left the survivors spiraling into despair every five minutes as something reminded them of one of their many, many lost friends. Foaly had stayed in the Ops Booth, doing everything he could to slow the molten iron ball.

The driver took the roundabout, stopping before the Manor's front steps. Only then did he speak. "Mister Fowl, do you want me to take the fairy inside?"

Artemis narrowed his eyes—now better-visible under the Manor's outside lights—at the man. "Do you mean to imply that I can not handle her for thirty feet and ten stairs, Hemmingway?"

"No, sir. Only she is a fairy, and they are cunning creatures. I assumed—"

"That she could outmaneuver _me_ ," Artemis broke in. While Hemmingway tried to sputter a protest, Artemis opened his door, sliding out and pulling on the lead. _"Come_ ," he snapped, and Holly found herself following, his voice compelling her even in the absence of a human roof over her head. He paused long enough to wind the lead about his fist, forcing Holly to stand almost touching his thigh, left ear dangerously close to the smooth cotton of his white shirt, his jacket long since removed. Then he stepped off and she was again half-jogging to keep up.

The auctioneers had never given the fairies lessons, knowing most owners would prefer to condition their property, instead of having standardized behaviors. However, Holly had briefly worked with the few canines the LEP maintained to help during rescue operations and other emergencies. Her position was perfect behavior...if she were an animal. She would have made a protest if they weren't at the stairs, and she had to use all her breath to take the human-sized steps, legs burning from lack of use. After her display on the stage, she was nearly exhausted, and felt the shameful burn of tired tears threatening.

They reached the top stair and Artemis reached out, hand barely touching the doorknob, opening it smoothly—it must have been replaced, after the siege—and walking inside. He spoke in a carrying voice. "You may enter, fairy."

Holly stared at him. She didn't need an invitation. She was long ago allowed in the Manor, after her kidnapping. She had no chance to point this out, however, as Artemis stepped forward without warning, and she was again yanked after him, neck stinging.

Holly recalled the entrance hall from her incarceration those years ago. It had been large but immaculate, cold like the musty castle relic its age should have indicated. Yet on other visits it had seemed...warm. Now, it looked no different, but it felt thrice as large, and the vastness pressed on Holly, the lights seeming to glare instead of glow.

It took her some time to realize another person was in the hall. Someone Holly had never seen before. A plumpish woman in black trousers and a crisp mauve shirt, the cuffs darkened with dirt. The top button seemed overcome by the width of her chest, resulting in a bowing of the material, showing a peek of blue bra beneath. She was standing halfway up the staircase, a rag in one hand, rubbing along the red wood, other hand holding a bottle of orange oil polish. She nearly dropped both as she turned to the door, chirruping a "Good evening, Mister Ffffff...Fowl." Her eyes fixed on Holly, jaw lowering, a few strands of long, black hair falling into her mouth from where they had escaped a mesh-covered bun.

"No tea tonight, Annabelle," Artemis said, closing the door and stepping out once more, the departure again digging the collar into the back of Holly's neck.

"Y...yes, Mister Fowl." Her head turned as they walked past, unabashedly staring at the elf. "Sh...should I prepare a guest room?"

Artemis climbed several more steps, tightening his grip on Holly's lead, and giving the servant no answer.

Holly was open-mouthed, finally panting with exertion when they got to the second floor. The climb had made her dizzy. She was so focused on her breathing that she nearly kept going when Artemis stopped, reacting to the rise of her lead a split-second before she was choked. She turned back to Artemis.

He was lifting a metal pad next to a door, punching at the keypad rapidly and for some seconds until it beeped and a loud "ka-thunk" came from the frame. Artemis took hold of the knob and pushed, the oversized door opening silently, precisely balanced, revealing a room that seemed just as overpowering as the entrance hall below, despite it being a quarter of the size.

Holly stared. This wasn't right. She knew what Artemis's bedroom looked like, after her studies. Large, yes, but it only had one window, instead of two entire walls of windows and a wraparound balcony. And there was a winding staircase in the center, rising to an alcove, which did not seem to fit in well with the architecture.

The attic, Holly realized.

The Master bedroom.

Artemis turned to the closing door, opening another pad and inputting the sequence again, until the clunk of locks sounded once more.

Then he finally turned to look at Holly. He tilted his head, face blank.

Holly stood still, looking up at him, chest heaving. Her fingertips tingled from the lack of oxygen.

Reaching down, Artemis pinched the base of her collar, which whirred and glowed before beeping, the lead falling away from her neck. He took his hand away slowly.

Such a slight weight, but its absence was a relief, and Holly gratefully rubbed at the remaining collar, easing the stings she'd suffered. Finally, with that gone, she seemed to have the energy and the will to speak. "Artemis, where is—"

"Shut up," Artemis whispered.

Her mouth snapped closed. She took one, involuntary step back, hands leaving her collar and curling into fists.

Artemis's eyes darted to them and his lips curled. Then he locked their gazes again.

"Get on the bed," Artemis commanded. "Now."


	4. Chapter 4

Artemis had picked his words carefully, the _geis_ picking up the "now" in his orders, making Holly's compliance instant. Her greatest rebellion was to at least back up so she could keep facing him, unwilling to take her eyes off, wanting to know, at all times, where he was and what the man intended.

Not that his intentions were hard to figure out. Cum-rag. Whore. On the bed, now.

She _had_ to keep looking, but it put her in so much danger. He could add anything to his orders. Speak again? Take off her clothes? Go to sleep, as the doctor had forced her to do?

She came to the edge of the bed, and conquered the order enough to merely place her hands on the mattress and jump up at one of the corners, a hand resting on the wood foot-board. It was almost comforting. Oak. Old, she knew, but it nearly made her cry. Oaks were nearly extinct, now. After the first fairies were forced to give up the People's secrets, almost every tree over twenty years old was cut down, the acorns meticulously gathered and crushed. Of the few that survived, the majority were guarded by humans, and government-owned fairies were brought in every full moon to replenish their magic in order to continue working. A handful of free ancient oaks were known to the fairies, but it seemed that another was destroyed or captured every month, along with its visitors.

Did Artemis realize that she was being comforted by the wood? When she'd sat down, he'd rolled his eyes, but soon distracted himself with the end of Holly's leash, inspecting the tiny mechanics.

"Ingenious device," he said, conversationally. Or as conversationally as Artemis ever got. Condescending lecture, more like. "It has a fingerprint scanner. Keyed only to me, they said, though I'm sure some government officials are also in there. It's preposterous to think I'd have the only control over you." He began to twirl the lead, the end whistling whenever he put an extra twist to his wrist. "So, _supposedly,_ no one can catch you up but myself. Mind, everyone knows the activation word for the sedatives. Rogue fairies _must_ be recaptured."

Words were clogging in Holly's throat. Where's Butler? Where's your mother? Your father? Why are we in their...your bedroom?

What do you want from me?

Artemis reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out the folded papers and tossing the jacket to the floor. No doubt, the next time he thought of it, the garment would already be picked up, cleaned, pressed, and waiting in his closet, along with another few million Euro in the best clothing the world had to offer.

He held the paper up, eyes moving lazily over the words. "Fairy. You will not attempt to escape this building. You will not encourage others to rescue you. You will report to me anyone whom tries to free you. You will cause no damage to the building, the surrounding grounds, any of my other possessions, or any creature associated with me. You will look me in the eyes when I snap my fingers." Artemis paused, eyes now flickering rapidly across the page, turning it over and scanning again. "It just goes on and on...they really do cover their bases."

Holly had seen older copies of the orders. After she had rejoined the decimated LEP, she'd studied the newest versions before each mission, looking for her preferred loophole. There was a story for each line. A crafty fairy testing the limits of the orders. Harm no part of a building? It was added after a fairy burned his master's house down in his sleep. Harm no creatures? First, it had been just humans. Then it was expanded to all creatures, after one pixie gutted her master's cat. Reporting others who spoke of freedom? One well-meaning human had ordered a fairy to leave her master's house. That human had been shot for treason. The fairy was caught within the hour.

Artemis began to stride towards Holly. Slowly. Still reading, still whirling the lead. "One does wonder if there is a way to simplify all this. No wonder few people travel with fairies. It seems such a chore, giving these orders every time you go into a new building." He was on the enormous rug laid out about the bed, now. It was easily the largest such decoration Holly had ever seen. Probably worth millions, and almost all of the complicated red, black, and cream decoration was hidden, merely serving as a focus for the wood bed-frame and green linens she sat upon.

"Of course, it might be easier if they weren't forced to cover every fairy's possible reactions. Commander Root, for example: he would never have harmed himself if he was captured. If they bothered to get to _know_ you, it might be quite quick. One order. Maybe two."

Holly flinched as Artemis lowered the paper and looked into her eyes. The lead slowed until gravity took notice at the apex of a twirl, metal end falling precisely into Artemis's palm.

Her heart beat furiously. Her body shook. The room was warm. Almost humid. It did nothing to preserve her against the ice of his stare.

"You," Artemis whispered. Then paused. Licked his lips and swallowed some emotion down. "You will not attempt any sort of escape from this building." He stopped again.

Holly could feel how thin her auction attire was. What had the crowd been able to see under all the spotlights? Not that it mattered, after the airing of the medical exam. She had no secrets left.

"That," Artemis went on, taking another step towards Holly, "is the only order you must follow."

She was off the bed in a moment, putting thirty feet between herself and Fowl, turning her back to the man, eyes seeking out a reflective surface. She found one in the mirror on top of a dressing table against the far wall, framed by dark wood in elaborate carved swirls. The desk was littered with bottles and brushes and little porcelain cups and more beauty products than a person could reasonably use in a lifetime, fairy or human. As yet un-moved items belonging to Angeline? No matter. She had to keep focused on the male at her back, lest he get in front and order her back to the bed. He must have made a mistake with that order, and he would _not_ make it again.

Artemis soon noticed how her gaze focused, and matched hers through the mirror. Though she was safe from orders, due to the reflective surface, Holly still slightly averted her eyes.

He sighed and took the last steps to his bed, sitting where she had just been, his body making far more of an impression on the mattress. "Of course, at any time, I can give further orders. New orders always supersede old. I could order you back here. Order your silence. Order...whatever I want." He shrugged.

Holly looked at the head of the bed and its quartet of gigantic pillows.

"But...I will not. Though I understand if you can not trust my word in this matter. Simply believe that I have...my reasons for bringing you here, Holly. I have been to every auction for the last five years. I passed up many...other opportunities. Because I needed to buy...you. _You_. No other fairy." He hesitated a little longer, and finally looked away from her reflection. "And _not_ your body.

"But...again, I don't expect you will trust me. Because I can not trust you. I can not give you the ability to free yourself."

In the next long pause, Holly tried to speak. The order of silence was gone, but she at first only managed a croak. Artemis heard the sound and did not continue his monologue, lest he interrupt.

After wetting her lips with a tongue that felt equally dry, Holly said, "W...why me?"

One of Artemis's hands rose to his shirt collar. In the overhead lights, something glinted gold, and Holly barely hard the clink of metal on metal—so sonorous...gold?—before Artemis wrapped whatever it was up in his fist. "I...can not tell you, yet. Not until I am sure of your reaction."

"That seems familiar," Holly snapped. "Do you need me to cut off an entire _hand_ this time, _Fowl?_ "

Artemis winced. He brought his fist to his lips for several seconds. Then he tucked whatever he held back into his shirt. "Worse, I would imagine. Still, I will not order you to do anything, Holly. But...just because I will not give you an order, that does not mean we can ever forget that...that I own you." He again locked gazes in the mirror. "You are my property. Neither of us must ever forget that I am your master. You are my slave."

"Oh. Don't worry," Holly said, through gritted teeth. One order to follow? To not free herself? Well, she couldn't _kill_ the man, as that would remove all the layers of _geis_ he was responsible for, but she could certainly get _close_. "I _won't_ forget. _"_

Artemis's mouth hung open. For a half-second more, their eyes met in the mirror, letting a thousand, thousand words pass between them. Then both had to turn away, Holly walking further from Artemis, towards the climbing spiral staircase, tilting her head back to inspect the dark space above. She rubbed her upper arms and cradled her poorly-supported bust in the crooks of her elbows. Though the air conditioner must have been off in this room while Artemis was out, Holly's wrap felt too thin, making her tremble.

Artemis's voice, when it came, was undoubtedly coming from the bed, but it still made Holly jump a half-inch, as if he were right behind. "I...I believe it would be best...if you scream, now."

Tentatively, Holly turned her body until she could see the man from the very corner of her eyes. Finding him still sitting, back to her, she let more of her body turn, until, with just a little stress on her joints, he was in the middle of her line of sight, and she could still relax her muscles and turn away quickly, should he so much as twitch. "What?"

"I am...a twenty-one year old man," Artemis said, looking at the ceiling. "As my chauffeur will soon inform the rest of the staff, I have just spent a ludicrous amount of money on my first fairy. A...certified virgin elf. The maid will confirm that I took you straight to my bedroom, rather than my office, where I spend most of my evenings."

Holly shook her head, mouth slightly open. "But—"

"To make it all believable," Artemis broke in. "You should...scream."

She stepped back again, until one foot was on the lowest step of the stairs. She needed him to take it back.

Artemis waited.

Holly took a deep breath. To shout at Artemis. To _make_ him take it back.

It all came out in a shriek. One that felt like a cat had sunk its claws into her throat and dragged down, down, down. Like her eardrums were shattering. Like her _everything_ was being torn away, sullied, ruined. And, when all of that breath was gone, she took another and screamed again. And again. And she was falling to her knees. Sobbing. Choking on her own spittle as she tried to say _something_ to her master.

When Artemis understood what she could only half get out, he hunched over, hands making fists in his hair. But he did not try to cover his ears.

"Let me go, Artemis! Please! You _can!_ Just.. _.please_...let me _go_..."


	5. Chapter 5

Neither of them said anything more that night. Artemis's didn't even look at Holly again. He briefly left for the en-suite bathroom, coming back in loose black pajama bottoms and a white shirt that he almost certainly did not wear when he had the room to himself. He got into the bed and lay, quite deliberately, in the exact center, arms and legs splayed. Holly could barely look at him, but his position was something of a comfort. If he'd taken up just one side, then perhaps the other would have been left for her.

She wandered, first inspecting the attic space. It didn't take her long to realize it had been equipped as an extra living space, if not necessarily to be her own; she recalled that Angeline had lived up here, during her madness. No bed, but there was a chaise lounge in a cheery yellow, with several beaded pillows of a creamier shade, both colors echoed in the wallpaper, joined by a delicate silver filigree. A few shelves—all empty—and a dresser. Upon opening the latter, she found the topmost drawers—which she had to stretch to reach—filled with sheets and blankets, while the last three shelves contained elf-sized shirts and jeans. And no undergarments.

Briefly, she felt sick. Then she had to wonder if Artemis would have been comfortable making such an intimate estimate of her form. It was a far more comforting conclusion, so she decided to stick with that.

She stripped and, upon putting the jeans on, found them incredibly loose. So perhaps he'd barely even known enough for that purchase. Or, perhaps he was just judging based upon the Holly he once knew. The one who didn't skip meals so she could hand them off to the other refugees.

She found a belt under the jeans and took it out, preparing to thread it through the belt loops. But she just stared at it for a while. Sliding the end through the buckle, making a loop, she put her hand through, tugging until it was tight on her forearm. Until the skin next to it turned a bit red and her fingers tingled.

Options...

She shoved the belt back in the drawer, as far down as she could, and then backed away from the hiding spot, fists clenching. She ran down the stairs, feet as light as she could manage, and into the bathroom, where she retched into the sink. Nothing came up, but the motion made her feel slightly better. Only after she had recovered and looked around the tiled room did she notice another, smaller door in one corner of the bathroom. This she opened, to find one of the Mud Men's indoor toilets.

She stared at it. Then slowly closed the door and left before she was sick again.

She found a silver letter opener. Matches. Plenty of ties and other belts. Nothing really suitable in the child-proof jugs under the bathroom sink, but plenty of jackets and small, heavy objects, and running water for the whirlpool tub.

She examined each find. Ran her fingers over smoothest silk and surprisingly hard silver, or under frigid and then scalding water. Then she put each away, turned taps off, and went back to wandering, feet utterly silent, leaving Artemis to uninterrupted dreaming.

It was near dawn before she forced herself (or nature forced her) to used the barbaric porcelain device. She'd had the same in her cell, but then, at least, she'd been under orders to use the plumbing properly. (Another standard _geis_ order, thanks to the somewhat disturbing actions of a particularly inventive pixie.) The sound it made sent her jumping back, eyes widening in alarm. She'd never understand how humans saw this as great technology.

She certainly didn't want to sleep, but, as orange began to overtake the blue-black view through the windows, she went back up the spiral staircase, into the attic. Taking the thinnest of the sheets from the drawers and snapping it out over the couch, she attempted to mount. It turned out to be surprisingly difficult, as the fabric was very finely woven and, thus, very smooth. Only three tries, though, and Holly pressed her spine to the cushioned back and watched the top step of the stairs. She couldn't see much of the bedroom beyond from this vantage point, but it was some comfort.

She watched. Tuned her ears to catch any stirrings from the man below. Waited, tense.

And fell asleep.

* * *

At least an hour must have passed before she was awoken, as the sky seen through the windows was now a bright blue. Not much more time, though, as her brain was slow and it took Holly a good fifteen seconds to snap to alertness. Far too long, with the weight of another being on the foot of her makeshift bed.

She threw herself back from the form with all her strength, spine only saved by the cushioning of the couch.

Seeming to realize the mistake, the intruder leaned back, placing a hand behind its body, onto the couch, for support, the other hand rising to halt the fairy's reaction. "Don't scream!"

Holly's mouth snapped shut and, instantly, scream was all she wanted to do.

It was a woman that studied her. It took Holly some time to recognize her, the shape of her face made thinner by the wavy black hair that was now out of its bun. The maid from last night. She couldn't recall a name, however, and the woman was similarly at a loss.

"It's all right, Miss...what is your name?"

It wasn't an order, so Holly merely glared, lifting herself up until her rear was on the short armrest and her back could press against the wallpaper.

"I...I came to see you," the woman faltered, turning her body and leaning over to search in a backpack at her side, pulling out a dark brown plastic bottle and a smaller orange bag.

"I'm not a _spectacle,_ " Holly hissed, and then wondered if her orders—the ones Artemis had failed to give—should have required her to be welcoming to a human. No, she decided; the only required orders would be for the owner's safety and the safety of his property. How a perfectly programmable slave should act would be left to the owners. Some of them must relish a struggle.

"I'm here to help you," the maid soothed, holding the neon orange before the elf. When there was no change in the slave's expression, the woman place the bag on her lap and undid one long zipper, folding the bag out to display a startlingly diverse collection of items. Bandages. Antiseptic. Little foil-wrapped pills. Cotton-tipped sticks and plastic gloves.

Holly stared.

She raised a fist, arm coming back, judging the angle she'd need to send the maid back down those tightly spiraled stairs.

The elf arrested her arm, recalling the ungiven standard orders. _You will cause no damage to the building, the surrounding grounds, any of my other possessions, or any creature associated with me._

Holly closed her eyes. "Leave me alone."

"I want to help," the maid said, low and tentative. "If...if he hurt you—"

"He didn't," Holly broke in, and then bit her lip to keep her from cursing herself. Were fairies allowed to lie?

The maid was silent for some time. Then reached out, laying a hand on Holly's shoulder, though she soon lost the touch as the elf jerked away. "Dear," she soothed, slowly taking her hand back. "He did. Even if you were ord—"

"Get out!" Holly screamed, her injured throat turning the last word into a single, grating sound that made even the maid flinch back.

"I...if you insist." There was some shuffling as the kit and bottle were put away and the woman stood. "Just...I'll be down the hall, airing out the other rooms. Come get me if you need anything. Or, if Master Fowl has forbidden it, just pick up the phone. Extension 215 will get my cell. And if you can't call, make a loud noise. Or...well, I'm sure you can come up with something. Fairies are resourceful creatures."

She waited for Holly to respond, but, eventually, was forced to descend, leaving Holly still drawn by a lack of sleep, but unable to lay down again.

Resourceful. Gods, yes, fairies could be that.

* * *

 _Holly joined Trouble in the Retrieval tent, even though the feed could be seen on any screen the People possessed. Which wasn't many, after the exodus._ _Holly just couldn't watch it alone. The only other person she might have picked as her companion was there, on that screen._

 _"Vinyáya is_ scary _," Trouble said, to which Holly nodded, managing a small smile. He leaned forward in his chair, fussing with the video screen, muttering about the tech. Trouble wasn't anywhere near an expert, but he knew just enough to recognize what had been lost._

_"Scary is good," Holly said. "Scary means they'll take us seriously."_

_Not that the humans had dismissed the fairies. In fact, the world was_ quite _interested in them. After Koboi's devastating attack, there seemed a long...pause. All of Earth turned its attention to the People's magma chutes, from whence they emerged, burdened by the injured and dead and psychologically scarred. The humans saw the healings that came after the next full moon. Analyzed the capabilities of the tech. Studied the fractured social structure._

_There had been no attacks on the fairies, but that was due partially to some preemptive measures. The Council advocated a careful display of tech and weaponry. Most of the more militant pundits went silent—or at least a bit more quiet—after the first video of a neutrino cooking a lineup of fresh game in two seconds flat._

_Eventually, the humans came to talk with the People. The People had_ some _resources, after all. Magic, technology, pharmaceuticals, and phenomenal amounts of gold and gems. The Mud Men seemed set to prove Koboi wrong. At least temporarily. The People had just asked for a little land and some food to keep them going, in exchange for giving humanity an enormous technological jump forward._

_But there would be no signing in the Irish countryside. It had to be public, the humans all said. Very official. After all, it was the first contact between humans and non-humans. Precedence must be set._

_So now a fairy shuttle was landed outside Leinster house, and Vinyáya was exiting with the rest of the council behind her, and all the People were on the edge of their seats as the eleven fairies strode unflinchingly towards the doors._

_"Come on...come_ on _," Trouble growled, thumping his fist on the table upon which the monitor rested, making the screen momentarily fizzle._

 _It was called the Rule of Dwelling, but it was a huge misnomer. Before meeting Artemis, Holly had been forced to wait for an invitation to enter a_ restaurant _. Any permanent structure was protected from fairy intrusion._

_Holly did her best to ignore her commander's tension. There was a human delegation there. Just outside the doors. Ready to greet the fairies. Not against tradition, really. But they could have met inside, too, and then, with no invitation..._

_It wasn't just Ireland, of course. Dozens of ambassadors were in attendance, and many heads of state. It was perhaps the most diverse grouping in human history. One man was such a dark brown that he seemed to have shades of purple on his skin when he caught the light just right. Next to him was the palest Norseman Holly had ever seen, only a wash of color in his eyes and a handful of freckles on his cheeks. Even Artemis wasn't so wan. And then there were tans and olives and so many colors in between; heights and weights and languages, though all in attendance had opted on English for the proceedings, and the fairies failed to care, either way. Once the paperwork was signed, they would be making a gift of the schematics for their universal translator, as a taste of what peace could bring._

_The fairies reached the humans. Shook hands, spoke briefly, Viny_ _á_ _ya smiling so prettily. It was always strange, seeing her...basically flirting. The elf wasn't past her prime by any means, but Holly somehow always thought of her as the hardest of women. Then she got into a political situation, and the charm was on, as if the old human stories of fairy glamor_ _were true._

_Holly resisted the urge to pull out her radio and demand information from LEP central. If they needed her to know anything, she'd get a call. She shouldn't be monopolizing the waves. It was just a matter of time before some fairy panicked and caused a scene, which the LEP would have to respond to if they wanted to avoid any riots._

_The humans were filing into the building. Trouble was cursing nonstop._ Vinyáya _was still smiling, barely turning her head enough to look behind her at the Council. For a brief flash, that scary look was back, and her fellows collected themselves. Even Ark Sool—lately added, to fill one of the spots vacated by the disaster—responded to that glare, though Holly was sure he'd try to lecture Viny_ _á_ _ya about protocol later._

_Holly had to grin. She wanted to see that._

_A dozen humans outside. The current Oirechtas, with the Taoiseach and President in front, their charm almost as perfect as the silver-haired elf's._

_"Pull..back...pull_ back _," Trouble shouted, rising to his feet, gripping the screen by the sides. Another half-second, and he would surely throw it at the canvas walls._

_But then the Taoiseach bowed to Vinyáya. Turned sideways. Swept his hand at the doors. And smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners._

_Trouble laughed, a bit of squeak in the sound. He fell back into his chair, rubbing his face with both hands. "That works. That works, right? That's an invitation?"_

_Holly paused. Then nodded._

_But she didn't take her eyes off the Taoiseach. And neither did Vinyáya._

* * *

Holly tried to ignore the view of the downstairs room, but Recon had drilled some habits into her, including the importance of being aware of one's surroundings.

Every hour or so, the entry door clicked open for just a few seconds. Nothing disturbed her, however, but that didn't mean she wasn't enraged by the intrusion. Holly just closed her eyes against any possible direct contact and listened for the door to close again.

Once, the door opened...and footsteps came in. Holly felt adrenaline release into her system. She was ready. She could do this.

The footsteps came closer. Closer.

There was a small but audible "click," as of glass on glass.

Then the footsteps retreated, the door closed, and Holly was left with a rapid heartbeat and a strange frustration.

She didn't move for some time. Not even to open her eyes. But when there were no further sounds, she edged to the railings and circled them slowly, looking at the bedroom. She stepped carefully, aware already that several of the planks in the attic space creaked. Despite an obvious conversion of the space, it was remarkably unfinished.

If not for her LEP training, Holly might not have noted the foreign object. As it was, when she did find it, she took quite a bit of time to blink, perplexed. It wasn't glass, but a silver dome on a matching tray, sitting on a small, square table near her staircase. The table was accompanied by two chairs and had a strange black and white checkered surface, but Holly had mostly ignored it, being too heavy to use as a weapon.

Holly was heading down the stairs before her stomach even had time to growl. She stalled at the last step, head spinning from the rapid downward spiral, the loose ankles of her stretchy pajama bottoms continuing in a mini circuit before unwinding and settling almost on the floor. She stared at the bedroom door. Was it locked? If she sat at that table as it was set, she would have a good view of the door. And whoever might come to the door could see her.

Was it locked? If she sat there, who would find it a more advantageous situation? The slave, having a chance to flee, or the master, the chance to rule?

Th twisting of her gut forced a decision. Holly dashed to the covered platter, cracking the lid just enough to sniff and confirm that nothing inside was once a breathing thing. She grabbed a roll and shoved it into her mouth, desperate to fill her stomach, and then snapped the lid back down, picking up the platter and making for the stairs, sweeping up almost without incident. Near the top, she clanged into the railing, jostling the platter and spilling some of the contents onto her shirt and the more liquid bits through the metal grating below, onto another rather expensive-looking carpet. Holly looked down just a moment before shrugging and getting back to climbing, this time with a smile. Soon, she was cross-legged on the floor, removing the lid and instantly moaning.

She ate like a very healthy pig. Fresh berries, still wet from a brief rinse. Apricots she tore in half by hand, popping out the seed and shoving the generous mouthful in. Dates, almost sickly sweet, working her jaw against their toughness. Lettuce and half-wild greens, made sharp by a vinaigrette and utterly irresistible by olive oil; about the only fat she'd had in weeks. And, as a final treat, in a second, smaller container, still steaming with its own freshness, a triangular pastry with tart orange frosting.

When the food was working into her bloodstream and drowsiness began to press, Holly put up little fight. She quickly realized it was no drug in the food, but her own satisfied needs and some odd measure of contentment. Too full to eat more, but still wanting just one more mouthful of anything on her cleaned plate, she crawled onto the fainting couch and dropped into sleep.

* * *

Her slumber was so deep that Holly did not come instantly awake at the click of the door's mechanisms. Holly opened her eyes when the darkness was replaced by the small light of a table lamp and a computer screen. She could hear the slight hum of both, though she was so high above that, in the gap between stairs and ceiling, made narrow by her angle, she could only make out the machinery and a slice of chest and hips, immaculately clothed, with hands that moved rapidly and with confidence over keyboard.

"It would help the maid if you left your platter where it can be easily removed. I only allow her in for a minute, and the alarms would go off if she had to spend more time searching."

"Is that an order?" Holly spat, then ground her teeth together. She should have let him doubt her wakefulness. Give her some sort of safety.

Artemis sighed. "If you will recall from last night—"

"I'm a whore," Holly interrupted.

Artemis's hands stilled on the keyboard. He'd been typing all through the conversation, and Holly smirked, knowing she'd thrown him. "I...apologize, Holly. I must maintain certain appearances."

"Ah," she crooned, sitting up a little, folding her arms under her chest, the cold of the Irish air prickling her skin. "The picky rapist?"

"Must you—" Artemis stopped himself with his voice just beginning to rise to a shout. Instead, he began to massage the tension at the back of his neck, head hanging low. "Yes. Be happy it is just an appearance, Holly."

"I'm not seeing a big difference from here," she said, and that seemed to be the last prod needed. Artemis pushed back from his computer, rising and walking until he was fully in Holly's line of sight, peering into the attic, eyes squinting. Holly was certain that he couldn't see her in this recess, but she still hunched her shoulders, lowering her head.

"Do you? Well, Holly, what do you think your day would have been like if one of those other bidders had purchased you? Allow me to paint a very _pretty_ picture!" He fanned his hands before him, as if laying out his canvas. "Bleeding and bruised and barely able to walk, _if_ you were lucky." Artemis advanced, making Holly's eyes widen. "And maybe you'd be left alone long enough to get clean and rest, and, if you stole a moment of calm, that would go away the _second_ you realized that you were _still there_. Still trapped. And your owner would be coming back in a few hours. And when he did..."

Artemis was too close, now. Too close. "Stop," Holly growled, fake nails digging into the couch cushions.

"Next time...he would start using his _imagination_."

His right foot rose and rested on the bottom stair.

" _Stop!_ " She shrieked, picking the platter off the floor and throwing it down the stairs.

Artemis backed away from the spiral, but the servingware was in no danger of actually hitting him, bouncing over the railing halfway down.

"That was—" Artemis began, but was interrupted by the platter's lid, which wasn't thrown down the stairs, but tossed over the railing, coming far closer to impact, landing a foot to his left, the clatter deafening.

"Take it, then! Take that and the fucking food and whatever else! It's all yours! _Everything_ in this room _belongs_ to you!" She turned her back on the stairs, burying her face in the couch.

Artemis looked into the balcony for some time. Then down at the bottom stair. He nodded to himself, backing up so he had no contact with the metal, resting with his hands behind his back. "I see. Very well. I see I should allow you further time to adjust. It is to be expected, really. But I do expect you to come around soon, Holly." He turned and began walking back to his desk.

"Don't count on it," Holly growled, courage returning as she heard the slight difference in volume in the man's steps, indicating his retreat. "I'm not going to play your little games, Fowl. You might as well just let me go."

"I would gladly free you, Holly," Artemis said, pulling open a desk drawer and taking out a laptop, setting his desktop up for remote access and walking away. "If this was just about you, I would."

Holly sat up and turned to look down at the bedroom proper, though she could see no human. Doing so made her entire body tense, as if she expected him to stick his head up from the last stair and growl, "Boo."

Instead, she was left alone, Artemis's last words sinking slowly into her head.

* * *

He couldn't bring her out. That is, he could have if he tried. If he ordered. But Artemis Fowl never did so. He left Holly alone in her attic space, spending his days off gods knew where, only coming back late at night, showering and going to bed. He said not a word to her. Not that she never heard his voice. One evening, when the maid, Annabelle, came to collect Holly's dinner, Artemis stopped her and spoke low about security cameras and missing first aid kits and the ultimate stability of her position. When asked if she would do better in the future, Annabelle nodded and murmured "Yes, Mister Fowl," and left the room, the clatter of Holly's dinner tray betraying the woman's emotions.

Holly knew no rebellion would gain her freedom from Fowl, but she still did what little she could to fight back. She saved bits of food to grind into the carpets. She filled the tub and dumped every item of clothing and bedding inside. She cut through every wire in Artemis's computer. Broken windows, hidden books, furniture piled in the middle of the bedroom floor,

All eliciting no comments. The carpets were cleaned, the bedsheets exchanged, new, better computers purchased. Artemis even seemed happy about the last one, spending his longest evening ever before the screen typing and humming, leaving Holly stuck in the attic space.

No, she never expected any of it to work, but, as each prank was done with no reaction from her victim, she sunk further into herself. Spent more and more time up in her little space, on the fainting couch, sleeping the days away. She never bothered leaving the room as, while Artemis had promised to never give her orders (if she could trust such a vow), the servants were an unknown element. Far more fairies had been assaulted by house staff than freed by them.

Holly and Artemis never spoke to one another, after that second confrontation, so it really shouldn't have surprised her that she didn't know Artemis's daily plans. Not like they chatted about synching schedules. But she really thought Artemis should have told her, a week later, when he brought in a guest. Or...guests.

She was shocked out of sleep by the sound of Artemis's security door unlocking. A sound she never heard in the middle of the day, when the heat of the sun had managed to get through the roof enough to provide some extra warmth, making her twice as sleepy. All that was banished by Artemis's voice. "Thank you for coming all this way, Mister Kronski. I know we normally do business over the phone, but it is good to meet in person, on occasion."

Holly sat up at the greeting, gone from her nocturnal lethargy to pure alertness. She rolled off the couch, landing on spread arms and legs, just barely touching the ground with fingertips and toes. Completely silent. Spider-like. She kept low, low to the floor, arms extending to their limits, crawling to the edge of the balcony, seeing out the deepest shadows.

"Well, I can't say I subscribe to your current beliefs, Fowl, but we at least do agree that these fairies pose a significant threat to our way of life."

The pair...no, _trio_ came into view. In the fore was Artemis, walking easily in his own quarters, ignoring the world in favor of his guests. Behind him was a man who had managed to achieve a shockingly perfect level of sphericality, which was barely contained by a sky-blue suit. Despite the girth, there was something undeniably...feminine about him. And not just his wobbly chest. He walked lightly. Moved his hands in little flicks as he spoke. And Holly would have bet anything that he had on makeup, though not so much as to change his coloration. Just to smooth out his still rather blemished features.

And the other...Holly didn't see her at first, hidden by the bulk of the male guest. Then the humans took seats before a small, low table, and Holly saw a little green.

The elf scrambled to the other side of the balcony, changing perspective until a small female sprite was in the foreground. One of the Haven breed, with gossamer—rather than leather—wings, and those painted or stained into the pattern of a monarch butterfly. The colors clashed horribly with her skin, but so did her blue clothing. With a lurch, Holly realized it was an exact match to Kronski's suit, merely cut to an airy sun dress. Matching clothes. Holly imagined that was not their only set.

"Now...where is that ex _pen_ sive little morsel of yours, Mistah Fowl?" The man shifted, looking about, and Holly cold swear she heard his chair _squeal_. "I'd like to see what improvements you've made on her. Those auctions never do a lady justice, you know. White halter tops, I ask you!" He briefly gave up his searching to bestow a smile upon his own purchase.

Holly recalled his words at the auction, when he gave up on her. That he would be content with one purchase for the night. Then here would have been her companion. Holly felt her nails dig into the carpet, cursing Fowl for keeping her from that girl. For keeping her from _protecting_ that girl.

But she knew that wouldn't have been the case. One order. One order was all it ever took, if you thought about the wording hard enough. And she wouldn't have been able to protect her. May have actually...may have been the one who hurt her, instead.

"Hmmm...they are rather plain," Artemis said, sounding truly disdainful of the auction attire. "But I suppose it is the same as cleaning out a house before showing it to future owners. Let them imagine the potential, instead of thrusting your own vision upon them."

"And I _know_ you appreciate not having someone's... _vision_ thrust upon your fairy. But I _must_ see her, Mistah Fowl. Your _vision_ is in this entire manor, in your businesses...the _results_...you _must_ bring her out!"

Artemis's eyes flicked up the stairs, meeting Holly's without a moment's search.

Holly pushed back from the balcony.

But she was still in danger for a split second, and it was enough for Artemis to quirk his brows and look away once more, back to his guest. "I am afraid she is not yet...presentable."

Holly expected further wheedling. Not raucous laughter. "Ah! The impetuousness of youth! I hope you don't need to call in someone for her?"

"No, no. Not before her scheduled exams. It's nothing that time and study will not fix."

Kronski fairly roared with laughter. "Ah hah! To be young! The drive, the risks...well, isn't that what all this is about, Mistah Fowl? Down to biz-nezz."

Holly hid for some time. Artemis might not call her down, but this man, this Kronski, was an unknown, and he seemed far too interested in his lost conquest. She waited, listening so hard, trying to make it through the sound of negotiations to even the smallest sigh from the sprite.

She nearly made a sound herself as a knock came from the door, along with the soft voice of Annabelle through the intercom, announcing the arrival of tea. Then Holly went back to her stomach, all but slithering to watch once more, trusting in the distraction of food to provide her own safety.

Artemis seemed to only focus on his repast, and Holly had the distinct impression that he was making a very precise mixture in his tea, even if he took no measurements. He poured milk and lemon juice so _slowly_ , so focused, until his lips twitched with some approval. He sat deep in his chair to sip and nibble a pastry, not even a single crumb falling on his long legs, covered in black wool slacks.

The guest, however, seemed far more focused on the sprite. He snapped his fingers and she looked into his eyes, though Holly wondered how she could see anything though the shimmer threatening to fall.

"Prepare our tea, my Venus. You know how I like it."

She did not hesitate, but her hands trembled, losing half of the sugar before it fell into the cup, though she wound up adding almost enough to turn the liquid to a sludge. Then so much milk that the cup almost overflowed. She stopped and sipped and Holly thought it was to taste, but then the sprite turned to Kronski, laying her hands on his thigh, stretching to tiptoes and leaning in. Her head tiled back, eyes squeezing shut as Kronski's mouth descended.

Holly pushed back from the banisters, curling in on herself, a hand over her mouth. She shook. She longed to rush down the stairs, grab the fire poker and bash the monster's head in. Could she? Would Artemis stop her? Was the sprite under orders to intercede, to put her master's life above her own?

Holly tried to block her ears, but it was impossible to keep it all away. The jokes. The murmurs. The alarmed flutter of the sprite's wings as something new happened. Some novel humiliation. Holly almost reached the end of her control. She was ready to run downstairs, roaring and homicidal. Be she heard the creak and groan of a chair and a satisfied sigh.

"Well, Mistah Fowl. I believe we have done all we can for the day. And I do believe my Venus here is getting a smidgen overtired. She can get just so cranky, you know, and the flight is a long one. I must be getting going if I want her in bed before she loses her temper."

"Ah. Certainly. I'll call Reginald and have him bring your car around."

"Excellent. We _will be_ in touch, Mister Fowl. You _must_ invite me to your elf's grand coming out, or I will be most _insulted,_ "

"Hmmm. You shall be on the top of my invite list, then, Mr. Kronski."

More social niceties. Then footsteps, and the door opening and closing. Some beeping and murmurings.

Holly uncurled her body and went to the bannister, looking down to confirm that Artemis was alone and speaking into his cellphone, rather than to a physically present person.

She didn't stop to think. That was always how she got her best work done. Holly flew down the spiral stairs, two at a time despite her short legs, and she was screaming at Artemis's back the second his thumb brushed across the "end call" button.

"So _this_ is what you are now, Fowl?" She thrust a finger at the man's now unoccupied seat. "Like _him!_ And I am supposed to _trust_ you _?_ You want me to believe I am safe here, and you bring in that _monster_ and joke about parading me about. You sick fucking—"

"How old was she?" Artemis said, as if he didn't notice the volume at which Holly had been speaking. And also as if he didn't care about the answer.

But Holly cared. She'd been trying to push that question out of her head the second she had seen the smoothness of the sprite's wings. Not marked at the roots with little bulges from well-developed muscles. Only to fluttering and the occasional hover? Completely pre-flight? Her mind came back with estimates. Mid-forties. Earlier, maybe. There was a lot of makeup on that sprite. Who knew, maybe it was meant to make her _look_ younger, and perhaps she was really early fifties. _Please_ gods.

"What is the age of consent among the People?" Artemis put the phone into his pocket, hands following.

Holly didn't voice a word, but the number popped into her head. Sixty.

He continued standing straight, instead of slouching as any other young man with hands in pockets would. He was so tall and thin, in such a perfectly made suit. He looked even more like a model in that pose, his hair artfully falling over his face, so soft, so dark, such contrasts in his entire being.

Holly stared at him. She felt like every word she had thought about saying to him this last week, when she'd sequestered herself in the attic loft, were demanding to come out at once. To burst forth with flailing limbs and striking hands and running eyes. She wanted it. So bad. She knew it would make her feel better. But she was unable, completely frozen as Artemis turned so he was now sideways to her, head going an extra quarter turn to look down on his old friend.

He spoke. Softly. And Holly knew, from the breaks and grating deep in his chest, that Artemis was nearly as overcome as she.

"Do you get it now, Holly? That is not...unusual. There are...so many other fairies like her. And younger. And that is all _my fault_. I did not plan correctly. Koboi won, and so the People were destroyed by my hands."

Holly shook her head, but soon stopped herself when Artemis's eyes narrowed, his demeanor twice as cold as that little boy who had captured her all those years ago.

"That is why, Holly," he continued, suddenly turning his head away, as if some force had taken hold of his chin and yanked him around. Still, though, his head was held so very high, so very noble. If he did feel shame, looking away was the extent of his physical expression. "That is why I will not free you, Holly. I can not free you. Not until I have saved every fairy in the world."

Every fairy. Every fairy in the world. Holly felt as if each atom in her body had just put a little space between itself and its brethren. She was larger. Lighter. Like she could float.

Every fairy. Free. Artemis Fowl planned to rescue every fairy on Earth.

And, until then, she was his slave.

All came crashing down again. Compacting, burying, destroying. _That_ was all he had to do? Find some way to get _every single fairy_ in the world out of human clutches and hidden somewhere that they could not be taken from again? Oh. Easy. Surely. Just...go along with the plan.

"H...how?" she whispered.

"I...can not yet tell you," Artemis replied, shoulders hunching a fraction. "There is a plan, but I can not reveal it you you, yet."

Wise, really. Because she'd heard that before. Once. Just follow his plan. And it had led Holly to breaking some part of herself. Left with no options but continuing with his plan or possibly dooming her species, she'd mutilated a human—albeit temporarily—and followed him into yet further blind spots and traps. A little break in her sense of self, but with so much shattered since, Holly could not see this little retreat from the Mud Man and think "ah, well, then okay."

She picked up Artemis's empty teacup and threw it at the man's head.

Despite the thinness of bone china, it did not break upon impact with Artemis's raised forearm.

And that. Pissed. Holly. _Off._

She grabbed the tea tray, tilting it so every item fell onto the table below, treats and liquids spilling and mixing on the dark wood. Then she brought the tray down flat, and it seemed like there was no resistance. Just a great crash and a vibration all up Holly's arms. Shards of china and gouts of liquid flew from under the metal, and a small bit hit Holly's foot, raising a thin line of blood. So far from caring was she, it was almost like it had happened to some other fairy.

But, no. That was _wrong_. Because Artemis thought she would care more for _every other fairy in the world_ more than she cared for herself.

But she didn't. _Screw them._ She wanted free. _Now._

"Holly, calm down!" Artemis shouted, taking just one step towards her, looking over his shoulder at the bedroom door. "My guards—"

"Let them come!" Holly screamed, throwing the tray at her captor. It rang as it glanced off Artemis's shoulder, making him to yelp in pain. "Let them see their _stupid_ employer, who can't even keep his own _whore_ in line! Let them see what you're really like, Fowl!"

"Holly, quiet!" Artemis hissed, braving the danger to approach his former friend, hands out, pleading. "They have emergency access. They _will_ come—"

"Let them!" She screamed again, snatching the largest shard of china from the table, the tea dripping between her fingers and down her wrist. She approached the young man. "I'd rather _they_ have me than _you!"_

Artemis's jaw dropped, and he choked, "Holly—" before being cut off by a pounding at his door, immediately followed by a series of loud beeps and the thunk of his lock, the intruders not even pausing to ask permission for entrance.

Artemis turned to Holly, still advancing on him, hand gripped so tight on the weapon that bits of red began to join the dripping tea on her forearm, settling into the crook of her elbow.

"Don't..." he began, in a whisper.

Then, he closed his eyes, just as the door alarm beeped permission for entry.

"Glimmer."


	6. Chapter 6

_Vinyáya hadn't been the senior Councilman when the People fled to the surface, and even the death and replacement of a few of their number didn't make her the most experienced politician, but there was absolutely no doubting who was the Head in this crisis. The rest followed her in a V-formation, almost all—excepting an ancient, bowed dwarf, assisted by a stone cane—with shoulders thrust back, chests puffed out, chins artificially high. Vinyáya stood tall, certainly, but her posture was far more understated. Not some mere act to convince the humans of her power. Vinyáya never really sought out anyone's approval. She was self-contained, and well aware of her strength._

_The most puffed chest of course belonged to the now-youngest member of the Council, Ark Sool. The abnormally tall gnome had a few inches on Vinyáya, and Holly knew, from his words at the few full-council press conferences she'd attended, no love for his new superior. Still, something about the presence of a few hundred Mud Men was keeping his mouth shut, so perhaps they would get through this without tipping off the humans about the shaky governmental structure of the supposedly advanced tunnel dwellers._

_Vinyáya set the pace, and she did not walk slowly. Nor did she rush. She hadn't been born into royalty, like Lili of the Frond line, but she could have easily stood beside the most regal of human queens, and then shouted down the greatest warrior kings._

_The attendees filed into the really rather oddly colored room. Blue carpets, reddish wood desks, green walls, a more normal brown wood ceiling, and aquamarine lighting. Holly had no clue who was hired to decorate the_ _Dáil Éireann_ _chambers, but even_ she _had a hard time seeing how the design actually made any sense. Apparently, one of the new Council members—a female goblin (and, thus, a good fraction more intelligent than her male counterparts)—seemed to agree, raising a thickly scaled brow in a manner that made Holly smile._

_There had been some shifting in seating of the Dáil, the front row nearly entirely vacated, allowing the fairies the best seats in the house. Vinyáya took the middle, the newest Council members in the seats directly adjacent; no doubt so she could have a more direct influence on their inexperience. The humans were still finding their spots when the Council sat as one (though the nervous goblin female had a bit of a stumble as she sat on her tail, a surprised snort of smoke issuing from her nostrils)._

_Holly found herself somewhat shocked when, instead of the Taoiseach, an older and rather more blotchy man took his place at the center of the room, his presence prompting all in attendance to stand, clasp their hands before them, and look down. She was only slightly less shocked when the man—the Ceann Comhairle, head of the Dáil—spoke._

_"Direct, we beseech Thee, O Lord, our actions by Thy holy inspirations and carry them on by Thy gracious assistance; that every word and work of ours may always begin from Thee, and by Thee be happily ended; through Christ our Lord. Amen."_

_Holly blinked. The People had a few small religions, and she barely understood the philosophy behind those, but she really did not get the humans' utter obsession with higher powers. And in a center of government...the People had instituted separation of temple and state even before going underground. The notion that any creature would still practice them in combination was almost insane to her. "Why do they even do that?" she muttered._

_Trouble was silent at her side for a time. Then he spoke, growling slightly. "Because, if they fuck up, at least then they can blame someone else."_

_Holly looked at him, shocked, and was even more discomposed when he turned his face to look back at her. Trouble never settled since they had reconnected after the disaster, but she had never seem him look so...scared._

_"You...don't think..." Holly began, but Trouble found his words before she found hers._

_"If there is one thing more dangerous than the Mud Men," he said, "it's their God."_

* * *

She woke without a headache. Without any grogginess. Without even the idea that she had been asleep. Just the confrontation, and now...as if she had been teleported.

Holly's obsession with Fowl following her first capture had led to studies that gave her a near perfect mental map of Fowl Manor, so she was shocked, upon opening her eyes, to not recognize the cheerful yellow walls. She sat up abruptly and, for a moment, thought that she was feeling some small side-effect of a drug, the world moving alarmingly. Then she looked at her seat and took in the curving wood and overdone cushions of a jointed rocking chair.

She finally looked to her left, and saw a door. Around it was a carved frame, done in blossoming roses, which she studied carefully, eyes darting to the walls at either side. Seventeen foot of wall to one side, fifteen to the other, give or take. Which could mean...the room across from the Master bedroom, if there was a window opposite the door.

Holly looked to her right and almost shrieked.

Artemis stood near the window—floor to ceiling, as with most this wing, in spite of the issues with security that brought—leaning back, his hands resting on a yellow painted...something. Something Holly had a hard time identifying with the sun going down just outside, so much of its rays coming through the dozen vertical bars of the furniture. When she squinted, nocturnal eyes adjusting, she suddenly recognized the shape at his back as a crib, the lumpy shape of some stuffed quadruped waiting at one end, it's pink perm not at all appropriate beside the monochrome man.

Quickly looking around, taking in the half-finished decorations, she realized why the room had been so unfamiliar. In her studies, it had been a guest room in dark green and silver. Now, it was something Fowl Manor had not needed in almost two decades.

A nursery.

She'd been so quiet on waking, but Artemis must have heard the creak of the chair. When he spoke, it was almost as if he did not intend for her to hear, his back still to the elf, one hand gesturing at the wall to his left. "That's where Mother was," he said.

Holly looked where he pointed, half expecting to see Mrs. Fowl or some recent remnant of the elegant woman. Instead, she saw a section of wall in half blue paint and half yellow, the latter shade slightly darker than the crib. The yellow was thin, some sections almost green, the first coat combining poorly with the old paint job. Holly had no clue how it actually managed to win over on the other three finished walls.

"When she miscarried," Artemis went on, perhaps finally realizing how little information Holly had been given with his initial gesture.

Holly now looked to where the wall met the wooden floor, as if expecting to see a red stain. Instead, it was yellow from the paint, a thick and somewhat misshapen rectangle from a long-ago dropped roller.

"We...fell apart, for a while," Artemis said, his thumb gently stroking the crib. "I had been doing all I could to help the People, at first. And nothing worked. I thought of nothing that would actually help. I just...wanted to give up. Move on. The twins were to be a new beginning for us all. Born out of the criminal life. A hope we could be made new again.

"When it happened and I realized it couldn't...that we... _no,_ that _I_ would always be ruined...I volunteered to move into my parent's room. Mother couldn't take walking out the door to see...this, but I...it was a reminder."

Masochism, Holly wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to interrupt. She needed information. It was a Recon obsession, and there had been almost nothing on the Fowls since the disaster. The People's resources were so terribly scattered, they couldn't even track themselves. Mud Men who weren't actively hunting them were too much of an expenditure of resources.

"My parents should have realized they weren't really out of the life. They couldn't just leave all our old enemies behind. I decided to stay home...that day." His hands clutched at the crib, and Holly thought the young, weak man would tear it apart. "I saw the news. A 'random shooting' in Dublin. And I _knew_..."

Holly swallowed, and finally noticed her only side-effect: a pain in her neck. She raised a hand to rub below her collar, finding a raised spot too tender to actually touch. Her voice rasped when she finally spoke. "Is that why Butler isn't around?"

Artemis was silent for some time. Then shook no, his head hanging low. "That happened a year later."

"How—"

"Someone else should tell you about that," Artemis interrupted. "She...sees it as her duty."

"Juliet?"

He flinched. "No. She is in America. We...do not talk."

"Why not?"

A sigh. Artemis ran his fingers through his hair. "She left. While I was at my first auction. She did not wish to associate with the practice."

"Didn't she know why?" _Doesn't she know about me?_ Holly thought, remembering the happy teenager she had once worked alongside in Chicago. The one she had been forced to mind wipe. She'd opposed the action at the time, but only now did she realize how foolish it was for the People to destroy the few above-ground friendships they had.

"No. She had no breakthrough, even when the fairies were discovered, and I did not wish to tell her of her past dealings with the People."

Holly leaned forward in the chair, going to the edge, so she could slide off and run, if necessary. "Why not?"

"Because she did nothing wrong. Juliet has nothing to atone for. I could not so punish her by placing the obligation to help me before her own dreams."

"I think Juliet would have wanted to help."

"Undoubtedly," Artemis said. "And that is why I could not ruin her life."

 _But you can ruin mine?_ Holly felt heat rising along her skin.

But, instead of asking that question, she let it all seethe. As a result, her next complaint was less than her strongest. "You tranquilized me."

More deep sighs. "Yes. If you had been attacking me when the guards came in, they would have realized I did not impose proper _geis_ upon you. Property damage they knew of. I always passed it off as amusing to me. But my elf coming at me with a weapon..."

Holly shuddered at "my elf." Half a billion euro and a collar didn't make her _his._ "I wasn't really going—"

"Yes, you were," Artemis interrupted, finally turning to face Holly. "Do not deny—"

He stopped himself just as Holly tensed up, waiting for the command.

He clenched his jaw and looked away before trying again. "You should not deny that I deserve it."

Holly lowered her eyes, breaking the chance at the _geis'_ s control. She found she wanted to thank him, but that was absurd. _Thank you, Master, for not giving me an order_. "You knocked me out instead of ordering me to stop?"

"I will not take away your free will, Holly."

"Except my will to leave here?"

"I already know you wish to be free," Artemis said. "And you will be. I simply need your assistance."

She gritted her teeth. Wondered if anything in this room was sentimental beyond being part of a nursery. Because she wanted to break something; to hurt him again, without him having the excuse to call his guards or use that cursed word once more.

"Why won't you at least _tell_ me what is going on?"

He looked quite a bit more ashamed, now. "It is not my plan to reveal."

Holly's eyes left the stuffed animal—a technicolor pony, she now saw—to study the man. "It's...but..." It was _always_ Artemis's plan.

He was nodding, eyes rolling at the situation. "There are other parties involved, and they have their reasons for secrecy. However, I consulted with them while you were—"

"Drugged," Holly supplied.

After a pause, Artemis nodded. "They wish to meet you."

Holly perked up. Others working against fairy slavery? Yes. Yes, this could work. If Artemis wouldn't give the order to leave the Manor, someone else could, and someone else involved in a project to free the fairies would probably be on her side regarding her own freedom. "When will they get here?"

"They will not. We must go to them."

Even better. So many opportunities. One step out the door, knock the man out, and she was gone. "Well then, let's go!"

Artemis watched her for a minute, a brow rising, making Holly sweat.

Of course. _Too_ enthusiastic. She had to play it cool. "I...just...why wait?"

"You need...practice," Artemis answered again, looking away.

"Practice? What? Why?"

Artemis swallowed, looking at the ceiling, his words seeming rehearsed. "Fairies are required to go through a proper customs procedure, or they will be confiscated. I can not fly out from the Manor."

No problem. Adding more complicated steps—and thus more chances at escape—to the transit fit right into her plans. "So, what, just act normal in public? I can do that." For about two minutes.

"Well, yes. Acting normal, and..." Artemis coughed and reached a hand into his trouser pocket. Taking out something thin and long and, she knew, very strong.

Holly stared at the leash. "Oh. Frond dammit."

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. This chapter gets as close to breaking the M-rating as is physically possible, really.

**Chapter 7**

It made sense, even without Artemis's explanation.

"I can take you outside. We can cross borders, even. But if anyone can argue that I don't have complete control over...the situation, you can be taken away."

And who knew where she would go, or what would happen to her before Artemis could argue her back into his possession. As easily the most talked-of sale of the year, she would not just be put alongside another hundred elves in government quarters. She would be...favored.

Artemis never said this, though, and Holly found herself grateful that he did not make the threat. And then irate with herself. Yes, praise her master for not telling her she would be gang-raped if she disobeyed him.

The fact remained, though, that if she didn't cooperate, Holly would remain in Fowl Manor for the rest of her life. Artemis thought he was protecting her by keeping her enslaved. He wouldn't free her; not without freeing all other fairies. If Holly was going to get free, she would have to free herself, and the first step was getting out of the Manor.

Still, it was a week before Artemis walked into his bedroom late at night following an all-day meeting to find Holly standing a bit off from the door with her back to him, hugging her upper arms, her collar turned backwards so the leash trailed down her back. A fairy could never remove their own lead, but someone had decided that letting them beg for "walkies" would be cute.

It had taken her all day to force on the leash, and then a good fifteen minutes of shaking in her semi-private room before she came downstairs. The wait after had been short, but horrible.

She couldn't look, but she could hear Artemis breath in sharply at the sight. He paused in the door for a half-minute, and Holly's pulse rose under his gaze. She couldn't have been an alluring sight. She'd made sure. Her cargo pants were sized to the Holly he knew, and so were baggy on her current form, which was just now recovering from emaciation. Her shirt must have belonged to some family servant, going down nearly to her knees and sporting green stains from yard work. It was the least attractive outfit she could construct, yet she was  _sure_  she could feel a wave of malice and lust come up as Artemis gently closed the door, locks coming together on their own, and walked up to his elf.

She stopped breathing when she heard the shift of his body as he crouched behind, wincing at the brush of hot air on her neck. It was a shock when she felt the weight of the hanging leash ease, Artemis standing tall again. She forced herself to breath in before she toppled over.

"H...heel," Artemis whispered, twitching the lead.

He'd given her a list of the commands others would expect her to know. Had said it in those exact words. "Others would expect," not what he wanted. It was best that she didn't have a trial-and-error education, so she didn't hesitate to go to his side, standing with her shoulder just barely touching the seam of the human's slacks.

It burned. Burned and made her stomach churn, head spinning. It wasn't skin she touched, but he was still  _touching_  her, touching her, she didn't want him to touch her, she couldn't stop him from—

Artemis snapped his fingers and stepped forward.

Holly felt the pressure of the collar on the back of her neck for just an instant. Then she followed.

It was so quiet. Even without elven ears, she would have been able to hear the tap of his smooth-soled shoes on hardwood and even rug. The rasp of the woven leash on his slacks. His fast breathing and whispered commands.

It must have only been five minutes. There was something ironic in the fact that all of Holly's training to become the perfect officer-soldier—marching, instant response to orders, ability to disengage mind from body—had bent itself to making her such a nice doggy. Artemis never took her from the room, and their final, long circuit stopped...next to his bed.

She didn't look at it. Hadn't been told she could, and so would not, though she could smell recently laundered cotton with the soothing hint of sandalwood.

The last rays of sunlight were coming through the western windows, setting a soft yellow glow on the rug at her feet, trailing up her calves and just to her fingertips, warming just a little part of her body.

They stood for some time.

"That's...very good," Artemis said, words catching, dragging out.

Holly jerked when she felt his cool fingers on the side of her neck, leaning away and involuntarily looking up into her master's eyes.

The sunlight had gone from his face, turning his eyes dark and unreadable, but still just as potent.

Gods, she wanted to look away, but he was leaning forward, long, thin fingers reaching for her again, and what was he going to do, touch her shoulder or her cheek or her ears, gods, she'd collapse if he touched her burning, itching ears, her entire body throbbed—

The leash whirred when Artemis pinched the base, disengaging and falling from Holly's neck.

He turned away, walking into his en-suite bathroom, easing the door closed behind.

Holly stood beside the enormous bed until her lungs forced her to breath in. Then she fled, tripping on the spiral stairs, footsteps making the metal structure bang and shake. She lept onto the fainting couch, putting her back to the cushions, legs drawn to her chest. She buried her face between her knees and waited for the shaking to stop.

* * *

_There was pomp. Bluster. Speeches. Kind words and vague threats on both sides. Holly and Trouble would have dozed off if they hadn't seemed to pass their nerves and nausea back and forth._

_Holly thought that all of the details had been worked out on the deal, but, apparently, a thousand and one pages of treaty couldn't cover everything, and the strain of negotiations was building. Some of the newer Council members barked complaints before being glared into submission by Vinyáya. Then the elders tried their luck. They were slightly harder to control. Vinyáya seemed almost disappointed when the ancient dwarf coughed something nearly unintelligible out, punctuating his statement with a thump of his cane, bringing instant silence and more than one sincere apology._

_So it went on. And on and on, until it was obvious that even Vinyáya was growing irritated. She was half-out of her seat, hands on the desk before her, shoulders rolled forward in the fashion of a feline preparing to pounce. To tear some baby animal's stomach open. Her voice was level, but the words clipped as she shot them up to those seated in the center of the room—including the Taoiseach, invited up by the Ceann Comhairle following opening prayers—berating them for the poor treatment of their guests._

" _Is this how you humans would treat one another?" Vinyáya sneered, and some of the politicians did have the good grace to look ashamed. "Ask what you'll get for saving_  lives?  _Don't you have shred of charity in your filthy—"_

" _Quiet, Councilwoman," the Taoiseach murmured._

_Vinyáya's mouth snapped closed._

_Miles away, in a drafty tent with a cold floor, a word: "D'arvit." It was said softly. No shock or terror or even disbelief._

_The Taoiseach smiled gently, leaning forward in his borrowed chair. "You are being quite unruly."_

_Vinyáya swallowed, the gesture traveling all down her throat, and she broke her gaze away from the human's, looking to her left, to the old dwarf councilman._

_The councilman let out a long sigh._

" _I must resign from the Council, Cahartez," Vinyáya whispered, to which he nodded and closed his eyes, lowering his head and settling his hands tight on his cane._

" _Your resignation is accepted immediately," Cahartez rumbled._

_The next place over, Councilman Ark Sool—somehow forgetting the debates and the words of the Taoiseach—let out a little laugh, eyes shining with ambition._

_From one of the many feeds, Holly could see the former councilwoman put her hand to her hip and flick her fingers._

_A sheet of camfoil fell away, her gun shimmering into visibility._

_The human guards, and even some of the officials, began to reach for their own weapons._

_Vinyáya yanked her gun free, pointing it at Cahartez's head, and pulled the trigger._

_Not a neutrino. Perhaps not even an LEP-grade weapon, because the heat of the gun turned each water molecule—and many other compounds—instantly to steam. Bits of dry flesh flecked off as the dwarf's body tottered. Slowly, he fell to the floor, desert-dry skin cracking open, revealing a skull and shriveled brain beneath._

_That happened slowly, it seemed, though Vinyáya had never been a slow operative, so perhaps it was just the normal time-stretching quality of adrenaline. In the meantime, the humans had begun to scream._

_Vinyáya readjusted her gun and let off four more shots. Perfect. Between the eyes, boiling brains, instant kills on each Councilman. Though he was closest on her left, Ark Sool was the last, and his heart rate had barely had a chance to increase before it stopped altogether. The fairies on Vinyáya's right side took just as little time._

_Before each body had finished falling, Vinyáya put the barrel of the gun in her mouth, into her soft palate. The microphone on her throat picked up the hiss of a red-hot barrel cooking her lips._

_A gunpowder shot rang out a split-second before the last fairy weapon blast. From Sool's fallen body, his eye cam picked up the jerk of the elf's hand, blood spraying from the wrist._

_Vinyáya's heartbeat spiked. Went erratic._

_Did not stop._

_Humans piled on her, hiding her as she was dragged away, one strong man at each limb, blood dripping from her mouth and scraps of skin fluttering to the floor._

_Holly and Trouble only had a moment to look at each other, hoping for some bravery, some resolve, and only taking in the unbridled fear in each other's eyes._

_Then they were running out of the tent, screaming at fairies, setting the evacuation into motion._

* * *

Someone was touching her oh, gods, it felt  _good._  Just fingers brushing her hair, but the last time she'd felt something like this was the night before her capture. She hadn't even touched her cellmate of three months, even when she came back from an hour, half-hour, five minutes with a guard and she was lying on the floor, sobbing, wanting to beg Holly to kill her, but prevented from asking by the  _geis._

Holly had wanted to help her, but she never had. Could not give the comfort of a physical connection when almost every shift change the sprite was ordered out of her cage, leaving Holly alone once again.

No one had touched her, but now Holly sighed, muscles loosening with the little pleasure. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Are you all right?" Artemis whispered.

Shocked fully awake, Holly thrashed, shrinking from the human's hand, head craning back to avoid his touch and gaze. She would scream. Very soon.

"Shhh, shhh!" Artemis said, though the lack of eye contact invalidated what could have been an order. "It's okay, Holly," he reassured, shifting up the couch and coming all the closer to her small frame. "I just...I know the...training made you upset. I had to make sure you were okay."

"Leave," Holly said through painfully clenched teeth. "Leave me  _alone._ "

He opened his mouth to respond, but soon closed it in a scowl.

"You...you can't come up here," Holly said.

Artemis snorted. "You don't get it, do you?" He laughed. "I own this house. This room." He leaned in, whispering, right up against her face. "And I own you."

She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to escape the geis.

"I am 'Master Fowl' here in every sense of the word. I go where I want."

And Holly felt his hand between her legs.

There was no stopping her eyes from shooting open, needing to see how she could attack, how to get free, but before she could think of a single move, he was moving up, on top of her, his weight immense on her fairy body, crushing out her breath, pushing her into the couch.

"You are so lucky," he rasped, grabbing a handful of the baggy cargo pants. "So lucky Holly. No one hurt you. So lucky it wasn't some stranger."

"S-stop!" Holly shrieked, twisting, pushing up on his chest, clawing at his neck and collarbone, but doing no damage. She was trained to fight, but he was huge and on top and he was tearing at her clothes, working the pants off her hips, down to her upper thighs. His head was in the crook of her neck, words going right into her ears.

"I saved you, Holly," he said, one hand leaving her clothes and going to his own, trembling next to her struggling thighs. "I  _saved_  you!"

"Stop it, Artemis! Stop!"

"It's okay!" Artemis said, rearing back so he could look down on the elf. "It's okay!" He smiled. "I saved you."

And he grabbed at her clothes once more, using them to pull her down as he surged forward.

Holly screamed, her struggles dying for a moment.

Then they redoubled, trying to push him away, off,  _out_ , but his human body was laid over her again, his hands grabbing her wrists, holding them above her head, all the leverage keeping her down, letting him move and he whispered in Holly's ear as she screamed.

"It's okay. It's okay, Holly. It's me."

And she screamed, "No! No! Nononono!"

"It's okay. I saved you."

Holly sat up, thrusting her hands out, kicking with all of her strength.

Nothing.

Darkness.

Her head whipped around, looking for the monster...but she was alone.

Still in the alcove, clearly in Fowl Manor, but Ar—...but no one was to be seen.

She sat up, looking down her body. Her cargo pants were still there, loose on her hips. Logic was coming back, her mind clearing, but...but what if...

Holly closed her eyes when she stuck her hands under the hem of her pants, feeling between her thighs. Even then, the touch nearly made her throw up. When she took her fingers back out, it was nearly a minute before she could force herself to look.

Just a small, clear sheen. No red. No thick white. If Ar—...if he had really...there would be blood.

She sobbed. Just once, but  _so loud_ , she was sure he would wake up and come to see what was wrong. Find her here, his fairy, his property.

But he did not wake, and Holly sat back down on the bed, balling up a blanket and shoving it against her face to drown out her sobs.

* * *

Holly awoke to the sound of slamming armoire doors. Well, perhaps not slamming, but they were shut with no care for heightened elvish senses. She wanted to go to the rail and scream down that she was sleeping, but what if he saw her, looked her in the eyes, and...and...

She turned into the couch cushions and spread the blanket to cover her head. Her breath began to circulate within, turning the air hot and uncomfortable.

"Holly," came Artemis's voice. Casual.

Holly clenched the blankets tighter. She was getting woozy.

"Our flight is scheduled for noon. We will need to leave within the hour. Please pack what you wish to bring to meet my associate."

She squeezed her eyes more tightly.

He kept working for some time.

Holly did not move. In fact, she had begun to doze when she heard a voice below again. A new one, deep and smooth, with a slight twang she could not place.

"The car is ready for you, Mr. Fowl."

"Thank you, Dolohov. I shall be down presently."

"Of course, sir." The door closed.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Shoes approaching the stairs.

"Are you ready, Holly?"

She felt the absurd urge to yell "I'm not here!" Like she was a little girl being told she had to visit unpleasant relatives. She instead remained silent.

At the foot of the stairs, Artemis sighed. "We are flying commercial, Holly. The plane will not wait for us. Please hurry."

She did not stir. There was a good, full minute pause.

"Holly, I know you are up there. I...understand your reticence, but  _I_  at least must go. If you wish to stay here, that is fine."

She breathed out slowly, a little smile on her face. Yes. Here. Alone. No Artemis. Perfect.

No Artemis. Just his servants. Just a maid and guards and men she'd never seen and no Butler and—

She sat up quickly, tossing the blanket to the floor, trusting the heavy  _whump_  was loud enough to keep Artemis waiting.

She tore off the cargo pants and shirt, tossing them into a corner. Diving into the drawers, she pulled out a double-layer shirt and button-up pants. The bottom layer of the shirt was sheer and tight, even on her figure, and she struggled to pull it on. The top layer—seemingly a simple red tee—was given a wonderful form by the shaping mesh below, which Holly hid by pulling on a mottled grey sweater. The button-up jeans fit loosely, as usual, but not so loosely that she could pull them off without undoing buttons. She further complicated things with a clamp buckle.

She pulled it all on, the layers and complications and hindrances, and slowly eased. It would have to do.

Slipping sock-less into white shoes, Holly started down the stairs before Artemis called again.

She froze on the last step.

Ten feet away. Artemis waited...with the leash.

She took a backwards step up the stairs.

Artemis looked at her. Then at the leash. Sighing in understanding, he waved a hand at her, turning away. "Next trip, then."

Holly hesitated as he began to walk away, tensing with every step, eyes daring between his head and the end of the leash. She would be alone. He was leaving her alone.

No.  _Not_  alone.

She ran, a little clumsy in the new shoes, snatching the leash in passing. Holly pressed the end to her collar. The whir of machinery was high-pitched, grating on her ears.

Artemis had, of course, heard her rapid steps, and turned to address the fairy, but found himself whipping back around as she pulled the door open and jumped through. He yelped, startled at the fairy's panic-derived strength.

Holly kept going, and she felt a brief tug on her neck as Artemis caught up. A dog she might have to be, but not a well-trained bitch.

Alone. No. Not alone. Not with a bunch of guards about, all of whom were perfectly fine with their master paying a half-billion for a... _formerly_  virgin elf.

But, if Artemis was to believed...tonight, she would be with others. In the company of an abolitionist.

A moment alone. A request, a plea, a single order, and Holly Short would be free.

* * *

Holly didn't have it in herself to feel pity for the airline staff. Perhaps some railed against the treatment of the People, donating money and spending all their free time lobbying to outlaw fairy slavery, but they still silently guided her through security—at least that was all distant, with the humans adapting fairy technology to solve their pesky terrorism problem—and showed her and Artemis to their seats. About the kindest treatment she received was being given a small fruit platter to nibble while they awaited takeoff, but Holly was almost certain that was airline policy for first-class fairies, and not an individual's efforts.

Airlines didn't have a complete understanding of fairies, though. The rest of first-class was circumspect—merely eyeing her with interest before returning to books and laptops—but she soon began to catch bits of conversation from the rear of the plane. Words of pity for her and condemnations of Artemis. Even rationalizations pointing out the huge increase in quality of life across the globe since the fairies arrived. And one pair of businessmen, still loose from free conference drinks, speculating about how far fairy orders could be pushed, and how sturdy their red-headed fellow passenger looked.

If Artemis could hear, he did not react. The businessmen and Artemis seemed more than a little bored with the inevitable tarmac delay, accepting an extra complimentary refreshment in one hand, texting with the other, thumb swiping easily over the phone's touch-screen. Holly tried to lean back in her seat to get a view of the contact's profile picture, but Artemis was already putting his phone away, sipping something with the strong aroma of spirits.

Holly had to grit her teeth when the plane took off. While airlines had latched onto fairy tech, many older planes—like this one—were still in use. She thought she was going to dislodge a joint up until the moment the wheels left Earth. Then she thought she would wretch or at least make some noise as the angle of ascent changed, rendering her weightless and then twice as heavy every few seconds. Doubtless if she was the pilot there would have been no issue, but placing her life in the care of a few Mud Men and a Mud Man-crafted metal tube stretched her nerves.

The announcement from the cockpit was a mere jumble to the elf, even with the little magic she had left for the Gift of Tongues. She took her cue from the other passengers—the most attentive of whom barely cocked her head at whatever was said—to settle back into her seat.

"I never imagined you a nervous flier," Artemis said in a low rumble.

Holly had to respond a little louder, for his human ears, but she still spoke soft enough that not even a passing flight attendant could hear. "Couldn't you have found a flight on a fairy-tech plane?"

"Not for several more days, I'm afraid. They are most common for longer flights, and we will only be in the air for about an hour."

Holly blinked. "Are we even leaving Ireland?"

Artemis gave her a bland glance. "I either find your estimate of my country's size to be flattering or your opinion of human technology to be insulting. Which shall it be?"

Holly couldn't call Artemis an ass in public without bringing her "training" into question, but she thought her face communicated the word quite well.

Humming, Artemis took advantage of a second announcement from the cockpit to bring out his laptop.

Artemis had allowed Holly the window seat, and she spent the rest of the flight looking out. Very little time had passed before they left land behind, going over a stretch of dark ocean made more ominous by the wispy gray clouds all around. When they went back to flying over land, it was a bit less green than what they had left behind, and certainly more foreign-feeling to the fairy. Humans had emerged from Africa, but the People were a part of the green isle, and even ten thousand years in exile had not changed opinions on what should be considered their homeland.

Soon, the green began to be cut through with the gray streaks of roads and the odd mottling of roofs, the sections widening to join one another until the land was instead green pockets in the gray of human developments.

Once more, the garbled voice of the pilot came on, and Holly struggled to understand. All that came through was some strange word, and then "tower." She frowned, looking down at the city below, wondering at its odd streets, done in diagonals and star-bursts and only the occasional section of parallel lines, all accommodating a dark green river.

Then it clicked and she whirled in her seat, looking at Artemis. "Tower... _Eiffel Tower?_  We're in  _France?"_

"Above it would be a better description," Artemis said, still tapping away.

She scowled, both at his dismissive reply and her own lack of information. She thought, hard, and her eyes widened suddenly at the conclusion that came. She left the window completely, hands resting on the wide arm rest between her and the Mud Man, leaning in to whisper as low as she possibly could, "Are we going to Disneyland?"

Artemis turned his head sharply, brows nearly hidden in his hairline.

Holly was far too intent on the possibility to back away from the man, even though she could now smell his breath and the slight sharpness of the alcohol the flight attendant had brought over an hour ago.

"A fan of roller coasters, Miss Short? I suppose we could add it to the trip," he drawled, his humor coming through. "Just don't ask me to wear any of those blasted 'mouse ears'."

Holly sat back in her seat, looking down at her hands. "Oh...so we're...not going, then."

Artemis blinked at the woman, wondering at this sudden second turn of mood. "We... _can_ add it to the trip, Holly."

"No, no," she sighed, going silent for a time. Then, quietly, she explained, "We used to have LEP officers stationed there. Easy to blend in, with all the costumes. I thought...maybe they were still..."

"Ah..." Artemis had to look back at his computer, fingers lightly tapping the keys, though not enough to put any text on the screen. "I can...check employee records. See if you recognize anyone?"

"No," Holly shook her head. "Anyone there would have left to help the rescue efforts or...been caught."

"Yes, likely. If it is any consolation, I recall no stories about fairies being captured in any such situation. They must have left before anyone acted upon their suspicions."

"Probably. Seems like the kind of scenario that would be in the handbook, really." Holly sighed, long and hard, and turned her back on Artemis, looking out of the window again.

Artemis watched her for another minute before returning to his business dealings.

The plane went on well past the Eiffel Tower, but it was descending. Slowly, it seemed, but no doubt hundreds of feet a minute. Soon, Holly's view was blocked by clouds, a little captured moisture streaking from a tiny hole in the window's outer pane. Then they were through and back into a more suburban region, the glimmer of a city just opening to its nightlife visible on the horizon. The pilot came on the radio once more and the passengers began shifting in response to his words, but Holly still had no clue what he'd said and what was going on.

She glared at Artemis. "Okay, did you all finally perfect that 'invented language' bullshit Foaly warned us about, or is this some mutually-agreed-upon delusion?"

Artemis looked at Holly, a brow raised. "Pavyseljirna kavbu ba'oxuku."

Holly stared.

"You need to put up your tray table," he clarified, and, a bit too confused by what had come out of the speakers and then the man's mouth, Holly complied.

If takeoff was bad, Holly was not prepared for the landing. She thought her touchdown following the dogfight had been bad, but the thump of wheels on tarmac startled her to alertness just in time to make sure she was fully terrified of the roar of air dragging on the wings. Holly was going to tear her nails off with how hard she gripped the armrests.

Then a large, warm hand covered her own, its paleness still a contrast to her sun-starved skin.

Holly jerked her hand out from under Artemis's, shooting a deadly look at the presumptuous human.

Artemis rolled his eyes and faced froward, waiting patiently to disembark.

There were many perks to the kind of first class Artemis had paid for. Not waiting for luggage at a turnstile, for one. Artemis barely had to shift his gaze to find the immaculately dressed airline representative waiting for him outside the security checkpoint, guarding his luggage. Only the heaviness of the employee's breaths betrayed the speed of the bag's fetching, and Holly couldn't tell if Artemis was duly impressed or not as he took the bag and palmed over a bill. A glance at the bill made the employee beam, however, so it was at least worth the effort to him.

It had stung Holly deep in the chest that morning, on leaving the Manor, to realize that Butler was still not, nor ever would be again, their driver. She'd only been in a car with him a few times, but it seemed such a natural state for Artemis. She could imagine he was the type of baby that had to be driven around during fits of colic, and Butler must have been the perfect infant chauffeur. Yet, despite knowing he was gone and having just had the shock, Holly still expected to walk out of the airport's sliding doors to find a solid man waiting with a sign for "Master Fowl."

No sign. And, as it turned out, no man. Holly really should have been ashamed of that particular assumption, given her own employment battles.

"Artemis!" A cool, deeply accented voice called, its owner pushing off from the side of a very, very old, but immaculately preserved convertible. The sort with its spare wheel tacked to the side and a grill that seemed better suited to a crank-start than an engine.

The owner was by no means near as old. In fact, if Holly was any judge of humans, it appeared to be younger than Artemis. And..."zaftig" was a word Holly had never used in a conversation, but it was perfect for the blonde walking towards them. Ample hips and bust, shown off by a tucked waist and legs that tapered down to feet that would have been best suited to dangerous heels. These were instead encased in converse that seemed all too casual for her obviously choice attire. The choice was explained ss she walked, however, shuffling every other step, weight resting heavily on one foot and light on the other.

"Artemis," the woman repeated, nearly falling into the genius's arms as she came to his side.

He, in response, put his hands easily on the woman's round hips, looking into her delicately tanned face and dark brown eyes, half-hidden by small, square glasses. "Minerva.  _Comment allez-vous?"_

" _Pas mal,"_ she replied, leaning in and tilting her head, Artemis mirroring the action, exchanging cheek kisses. "I had to make my  _own_  breakfast this morning, I'll have you know. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice."

Artemis smiled, an edge to the curve of his lips. "Oh. Does that mean...you will be cooking this weekend?"

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "Yes," she said, deadpan.

"Oh." Artemis's smile did not falter in the slightest. "Excellent."

There was a long pause. Even Holly absorbed some of the tension.

Minerva leaned in and spoke just a hair's breadth from her guest's ear. "Lies."

After another, shorter pause, Artemis chuckled. Leaning back, he shook a finger in Minerva's face. "Minerva! There is enough going on this weekend without you adding that stress,  _ma bichette."_

The Frenchwoman narrowed her eyes at the man. "Why do I feel that was said in  _your_ native tongue, and not mine?"

Artemis reached up, tucking a strand of waved hair behind one of Minerva's ears. "That," he breezed, "would be  _mo bitseach."_

" _Casse-toi!"_  Minerva shrieked, though it blended into a laugh. Shaking her head, she freed the hair Artemis had so carefully arranged. "Come. We shall be so much more comfortable at the villa."

Artemis nodded, following the woman back to the car.

Up until the leash went taut.

He must have barely felt the tension, but Artemis froze entirely, looking back over his shoulder at Holly.

The soldier stood, entire body tense, as if that lead contained a live wire. Her eyes darted up and down the airport pickup. So many people. If she jerked back, grabbed the lead, twisted hard, Artemis would lose his grip. She could run.

Until someone screamed the word. Holly wondered if the collar was smart enough to dose her once, or if she would be pumped full of tranquilizer for every voice, until her heart itself went to sleep.

Artemis watched Holly, but did not react. Not to tighten the lead or narrow his eyes or shake his head. He let her decide.

The elf looked up at him, into his eyes, wondering if she would follow his order here, even out of the airport and fairy limitations. Should she comply or fly into a contrary rage?

And still no orders came.

It felt like a defeat, taking that step to follow the humans. It was not eased by Artemis's lack of gloating as he simply turned and followed their host.

Holly was a little mollified by Artemis white-knuckling the dashboard as Minerva drove. If it was true that she and Artemis had been associates for some time, then he had no excuse for being surprised at the woman's driving style. Holly certainly wasn't. The few times she'd been in a squad car with Chix Verbil following his wing injury, he'd drove like he was still trying to get places as the crow flies.

In the back seat, Holly actually smiled. Chix had made it to Atlantis, along with an entire shuttle-port's worth of stewardesses. All reports indicated the stewardesses remained quite thankful. His second son was on the way.

This pleasant reverie came at the end of a particularly winding section of the drive, with Artemis groaning as the car finished a final shrieking turn between a large pair of trees, going into an extended arbor, the trees becoming progressively shorter and younger as they went along, finally entering into an open field, at the end of which stood an enormous house.

"Really, Minerva. We are not on  _that_ much of a deadline. You could be a bit more reasonablaaaaah!"

Holly couldn't keep in a giggle as Minerva veered around a statue of a human on horseback, its arm upheld, perhaps pointing at the sky or holding something aloft, though it was impossible to tell now, as the statue ended at the wrist. Bits of gravel flew from the car's back wheels, pinging into the villa's stucco and sending up a small tinkle of breaking glass somewhere nearby.

The car looked towards the vague source of the noise and pouted.

Artemis glared at her, releasing the dashboard and smoothing his hair back. "You deserve that."

Minerva rolled her eyes and flipped a hand at the man. "It can be fixed."

"That's no excuse," Artemis grumbled, taking the liberty of turning the engine off and yanking the keys free, saving himself from another joy ride. He exited the car, the movement tugging on Holly's collar, which was still connected to the lead and this to Artemis's wrist. The elf followed without complaint, but her eyes were again darting across the grounds.

The field was rather large, but the trees on the edge were thick. The sort of density forced by the Mud Men's twin obsessions of privacy and fighting out natural forest fires. She wouldn't live in those for anything, but they could be a temporary refuge. A little fire in there would actually help. The inevitable blaze from a ground covered in dead wood and thick leaves would destroy her tracks.

Artemis took the pilfered keys in hand and didn't need to consult them before sliding one home. Touch-memory. Which meant he'd at least had the privy of these keys before. Holly wondered how long it would take someone to grow comfortable enough with the harsh genius to hand over they keys. Or foolish enough; she wouldn't be surprised if the man could recreate a set of keys from visual memory.

But, then, he'd been nothing but charming with Minerva. Perhaps that was all it took: a little well-calculated charm. He certainly exuded enough, stepping back and bowing Minerva in, smiling at the little bob of her head in response.

But then he stilled, looking to Holly, standing just at the edge of the stairs. He appealed to Minerva.

Minerva, sensing the pause, looked back. And, understanding, focused on Holly. "You may enter."

She sounded so...neutral.

A ruse. It had to be. An anti-slavery Mud Man would allow a fairy into their dwelling. How else would they get the fairy off leash and open to an order to be free? Holly's heart hammered as she stepped across the threshold, feeling not a tingle of the  _geis's_  Rule of Dwelling.

Minerva smiled at the elf, then to Artemis. "I would prefer she walk free, Artemis."

Holly held back a grin. It would not be much longer.

"Give the orders and show her to her room," Minerva said, flipping her hand at Artemis and turning away. "We will talk in the library." Still limping, placing her hands on the furniture, she passed, disappearing down a long hallway.

Holly watched her go, stomach finally seeming to feel the violence of the drive.

Artemis dripped to one knee before the elf. Waited.

Waited for Holly to force herself to meet his eyes.

He could do it himself. Force her. Tug on the leash or grab her chin, or just move into her line of sight, but he waited until Holly turned to meet his gaze with eyes that were struggling to hold back a shimmering wetness.

"Was...was it a lie?" Holly asked. "She's not on my side. Is she?"

Artemis opened his mouth for some sort of answer, but on darting his gaze after the woman, seemed to reconsider, merely meeting eyes with the fairy again. "Holly...you will not attempt to escape this dwelling." He paused a moment. Then closed his eyes. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't destroy her house like you're doing to the Manor." Reaching out, he pinched the base of Holly's collar, the leash whirring and falling away.

Holly was gone from Artemis's side before he finished standing. She felt tension in her arms, her legs, her jaw. It was too much and she released it all in one kick.

An ornate wooden display table wobbled and toppled over, sending an even more ornate vase to shatter on the floor, shards skittering off under the furniture. Holly felt ludicrously smug. It was a far better crash than Minerva's broken window.

As if he'd expected the destruction, Artemis didn't even jump. Just glanced over the broken pottery before following Minerva's path down the hall.

Holly remained in the entryway, letting her anger build up again. When it was nice and pressurized, she allowed herself to go after the man. Really, she'd prefer to explode at whoever this Minerva woman was—or at least find out if she needed to explode—but she was wherever the library was, and Holly had been too distressed to track her exit. Unless this was a rather simple villa—and the view from outside told Holly that this could never, ever be true—then there was no finding her but by accident. Artemis, however, could not be far.

She would just go down the hall and keep breaking things. Including—she bared her teeth in pleasure—Artemis.

In a house this large and full of echoes—the Paradizo clan apparently did not have the Fowl obsession with carpets, allowing every step to reverberate on the walls, only dampened by the occasional piece of furniture or painting—he wasn't all too hard to track. The sound of a long suitcase zipper guided her down a hall to an open door. Holly slowed as much as her little body could stand as she entered the room. "You  _told_ me she was—"

"Get out of my room, Holly." Artemis snapped, his back to the elf as he took clothes from the suitcase, flapping them before laying them out on the bed to de-wrinkle.

Holly stopped in her tracks, but did not leave. No eye contact, so no order, and now too much confusion. "What?"

" _Your_  room is at the end of the hall, on the left," Artemis said. "Kindly leave me to my own room."

Holly gaped. "My—"

" _Room_ ," Artemis barked, turning to glare at the elf. "This is mine. That is yours. It is not a difficult concept, even for a police officer."

Holly bared her teeth at the slight to the LEP. "Keeping up appearances for the girl? Trying to get in her.. _._ ' _good graces?_ ' Does she  _know_  you make me sleep with you?"

Artemis snorted. "You could hardly call that 'sleeping with me.' And, yes. She knows." He shrugged. "She suggested it."

Holly's stomach dropped. "She—"

"To protect you from the staff," Artemis went on, airy and frustrated, eyes rolling.

Holly lowered her brows. "You mean protect me from being freed by them."

"That was included in her considerations, yes. Now... _my_  room," Artemis insisted, pointing at the door. "If you  _must_ be with me, I will be joining Minerva in the library in ten minutes. I do hope you join us. We have much to discuss.

Clenching her fists, quite willing to scream, Holly turned her back to the man and stormed out of the doors.

There was a hanging scroll next to the door, thin and yellowed with age, the brushstrokes by some Mud Man calligrapher. They were delicate and full of motion. Alive.

Holly yanked the scroll from the wall as she passed, taking half of it with her into the hall before slamming the door on the middle of the message.

* * *

He clenched the back of her neck, nails digging into her skin, pushing down hard so she had to turn her head away from the mattress to breath. Which was already difficult, with the weight on her back, compressing her lungs. She wanted to keep her eyes closed, but there was no stopping herself from looking up, watching as he moved against her, making the smallest of noises.

He loved that she watched. He smiled.

"Shhhh," he ordered, completely unnecessary, as he'd said it a hundred times already, right at the beginning. Said it every time he touched, grabbed, thrust.

He had to order, because if she was given half a chance, Holly would scream, pray to be saved, beg to be killed, and his host most certainly would not approve of her sleep being disturbed.

He leaned down, putting even more pressure on Holly's neck, burying her face in the sheets, and he whispered right in her ear. "Now...isn't this nice?"

Holly shot up in bed, onto her hands and knees just an instant before she spun around, one arm out for defense, the other clutching an over-sized pillow to her chest.

Even as a nocturnal creature, it took her eyes time to adjust. The curtains were thick and many-layered, keeping the room both stiflingly warm from the heat of the fire and almost completely dark. Only a very dim shaft of light from under the door helped Holly to see.

Putting a hand to the back of her neck, she expected the pain of a burgeoning bruise, but only raising a few goosebumps that were quickly conquered by the heat.

She was suffocating. It wasn't just the hands of her dream, but the actual room. Heart hammering still, Holly slid out of bed, going to a pair of long curtains and yanking them aside to reveal a pair of French doors. After some struggle keeping the airy fabric parted, she found the ties for one side and made a messy knot that Vinyáya would have screamed about, back in her Academy days. Beyond caring, Holly pounded the doors with her fist until one burst open and she was hit with a chill wind.

Holly paused, breath taken by the cold, shoulders hunching in. Elves were tropical creatures, and too much exposure like this could actually weaken her. Without her magic, it could perhaps even make her ill.

Whatever. IT was worth it. She placed her hands on the remaining closed door and leaned into the wind, letting it snake into her mouth, up her nose and through the complex whirls of her long ears. Her eyes drifted half-closed and she passively took in the sight of a nearby water feature and the distant road. There was a tentative chirp of crickets just speaking up again after being startled by the banging window. Holly leaned into the door.

Her nose was right at the threshold when a barrier came up. She could go no further.

Holly's eyes burned when they opened once more. Far away, over the tops of trees, she could see the lights of a little town and, above that, the far grander lights of the night sky.

She smelled fresh wind off treetops and old earth and the rot of grass cut days before. The soles of her feet tickled with the phantom brush of the lawn and the night's just-forming dew. She wanted it.

Holly put out her hand, just  _wanting_ , until it too was caught and all she could do was flatten her palm against the invisible wall. She placed her other hand there, leaning her full body weight into it.

Holly looked at her hands, hovering on nothing and, suddenly, laughed. Loud and raw, inappropriate, unstoppable. Fucking magic. If humans needed any proof, here it was.

Sudden, unexpected, fury rushed through Holly's blood and she turned from the gardens, going as fast as she could while keeping her footsteps utterly silent, yanking open her door and darting into the hall.

He was wrong.  _Wrong._  Artemis could free the People if he wanted, but he would not do so by making her  _his_  property. This girl, this Minerva, would understand. She would set the elf free. One order—to stop following orders—and Holly would be gone.

Holly didn't have to inspect each room. She knew where Artemis was quartered, and Minerva had assured them that no one else would be in the villa while plans were made. Which meant that the light coming from the door at the other end of the hall—the same light that had eventually seeped into her own room—could only be Minerva's. She ran, silent, but so close to just  _screaming_  for the human girl to free her. Only her LEP training (and one particular gnome in the Academy who was very,  _very_  insistent on never charging into an unknown situation) slowed her pace and hands enough so she merely cracked open the door and peeked inside.

In the gentle glow of a lamp under a thick shade, Minerva's hair fell down her shoulders and spine, a golden cascade. There was a pale hand on her bare hip and a dark-haired head nestled between her neck and shoulder and Holly could hear gasped words between open-mouthed kisses. " _Merde. Minerva. Merci,_ Merci! _Ta chat!"_

Minerva keened, head tilted back to let lips brush over her neck, along her collarbone, lower. "Artemis."

Holly's mouth dropped open. She took a half-step back from the door.

A hand fell on her shoulder.

"No, don't go in th—"

Holly spun about, feet still rooted, motion coming all from the hips. With all her force, she sent her fist out at her her own head height, intending to punch straight through the stomach of whatever human remained in Minerva's villa.

"—ere," the speaker managed, squeakily, just before Holly's fist smashed into its mouth.

His mouth. Which was full of  _really fucking_   _sharp teeth._  Holly swore, cradling her hand, and stepped back once more, back hitting the door.

Whcih swung another inch with a tiny creak.

Blood dripped down Holly's knuckles and onto the wood floor, but what was left in her veins went cold. She listened for a reaction from inside the room.

Which became an entirely lost cause when her ears were assaulted by a great  _crack_ , as if lightning had struck between her and the stranger.

Which was precisely where a new figure stood, snarling, "Hands  _off_  my  _student_ , elf!" Taller, older, and far, far more angry than the first intruder, his eyes glowed red, illuminating a grey-skinned face full of yellowing teeth.

Holly gaped at the creature and flickered her eyes to his...student. Scales and runes decorated their chests. Their hands were thin, with knobbly fingers ending in needle-like claws. They had muscular digitigrade legs with further talons on the toes and an extra dewclaw at the ankle. And long mouths—muzzles, really—brimming with teeth and, in the case of the younger, blood. It was his  _own_  blood, but it was a terrifying sight.

And sparks. Red sparks came from the student's broken teeth, which were slowly straightening, one or two falling out to be replaced by new, shining fangs.

"What the—" Holly began, shutting down when she heard the feeble squeak of hinges. She should have kept facing these strange creatures, but despite their threat she was unable to keep herself from looking over her shoulder.

Minerva stood in the doorway, wearing a man's button-up shirt, which she simply clutched at her chest, rather than buttoning. Behind her, the original owner was looking at the ground as he pulled up the zipper of his fine woolen slacks, leaving his pale chest bare, exposing a swath of red from his cheeks all the way to his collarbone.

"Ah," Minerva said, lightly, out of breath. She swept a hand at the two strange creatures behind the elf. "Holly. May I introduce you to the demon warlock, Qwan, and his student, Nᐤ1?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...man, crap. I dug the bomb shelter at the second-to-last apartment. Um...er...review...plz?
> 
> In an unrelated note, Artemis's theme is now "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. Which will make a lot more sense in, like, 3 to 5 chapters, depending on how fast you catch on.
> 
> Follow "Kitsune Heart" on Facebook to keep up with her writing progress!


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